


Start Fresh

by Romiress



Series: More to Being a Father than Having a Kid [16]
Category: Batman: Arkham (Video Games), DCeased (DC Comics), Doctor Fate (Comics)
Genre: Aftermath of Dimension Travel, Alternate Universe - Batman: Arkham (Video Games) Setting, Background Polyamory, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Gen, POV Khalid Nassour, Recovery from trauma, Slade Wilson is a Good Parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 50
Words: 77,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23978626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romiress/pseuds/Romiress
Summary: Khalid Nassour has lost everything. His home dimension, beset by the anti-living, has been abandoned by those who remained. The new world he finds himself in should be perfect, but recovery doesn't come so easily.
Relationships: Khalid Nassour & Damian Wayne, Khalid Nassour & The Batfamily, Khalid Nassour & Thomas Wayne
Series: More to Being a Father than Having a Kid [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1386880
Comments: 202
Kudos: 265





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feel free to join us over on [discord](https://discord.gg/kYvx6cd) for update notifications, chapter discussion, fanart, and fanfic!

Leaving the shelter isn't the exciting moment Khalid had hoped it would be. He feels like it should be significant. Like it should feel like a major milestone. But the truth is that he's only had a few days there, barely enough time to even accept it beyond an initial passing interest, and the whole thing—his whole _life_ —feels extremely temporary.

He packs what he has while Slade goes elsewhere, but it doesn't even take a minute. He's got a single change of clothes, a pack of toiletries in a small bag, and the helmet.

That's it. Everything else is gone, left behind with the rest of his life. With his family. With his friends.

He refuses to let himself dwell on it, focusing instead on what he still has to do. There's no one to say goodbye too, but he seeks out Grace anyway, wanting to be sure he gives her his thanks. She's been nothing if not helpful, and he would rather leave a good impression.

"You don't have to thank me," she says with a wave of her hand. "Just doing what I was brought in to do. You take care of yourself, alright?"

He nods and leaves, but he's no longer sure where to go. To find Slade? That seems like the only real destination, but he has no idea where Slade is, and he doesn't want to go wandering around to find him. Instead, he takes his things, the helmet tucked under his arm, and goes to the front to wait.

He waits. He's always been patient, but it's hard not to feel jittery in light of everything that's happened. The helmet tucked under his arm feels like a weight; it can't weigh more than a pound, and yet he's struggling not to think about it every second that passes by.

It's not the helmet itself. It's what it represents: the death of magic. The death of the old world. Nabu.

Uncle Kent.

The memory rises, unbidden and unwanted, and as fast as Khalid tries to push it down it only comes back. He doesn't want to think of his uncle. He doesn't want to think about the man who taught him every bit of magic he knew, and what he did with that magic.

He doesn't want to remember what he did to Kent Nelson.

"Wow!" Someone says, too fast and too close, and Khalid jerks back, trying to figure out how someone managed to sneak up on him.

The boy in front of him is young. He can't even be sixteen, and he stands a good head shorter than Khalid himself as he stares up at him inquisitively.

"Khalid, right?"

The fact that the boy knows his name...

"Damian?"

"Close! I'm Thad." He offers his hand too fast for Khalid to even register, and Khalid stares down at it stupidly.

He supposes he should consider himself lucky: if nothing else, it's doing a great job taking his mind off things.

"Uh, yeah," he says, taking the offered hand and giving it a shake. "Khalid Nassour. I guess I'm.. coming to live with you guys."

"That's what Slade said. He gave us a whole lecture on how we should act, but it's not like we didn't know. We've had lots of people join the family, after all. Like me."

"You're..." He looks over Thad, trying to make the connection. Joey had blond hair, so Khalid makes a guess. "Will's son?"

Apparently his guess makes Thad's day, because the kid's face absolutely lights up.

"Yep. Damian's somewhere around here too, so you can meet him before we go eat. And Slade, but you already met Slade. Did you meet anyone else?"

"Mr. Wayne," he says. His brain won't let him reconcile _Bruce Wayne_ with _Batman_ so easily. "Jason. Joey." Most he's seen only briefly from a distance. He hasn't really gotten to _talk_ with them all that much. He supposes that's what dinner's for.

"Oh good, you found him!" Someone calls, and Khalid looks down the hall to find another boy coming towards him. He looks around the same age as Thad (or maybe a year or two older), and has a few inches on him to boot. That said, where he had to _think_ about who Thad was related to, he doesn't have to with Damian. Damian is the spitting image of his father, and only his age, his skin tone, and his eyes stand out as clearly different. His eyes are a piercing green, and while Khalid can't remember what color Bruce Wayne's eyes were off the top of his head (he suspects blue, but brown or grey are equally possible), he knows they weren't the piercing green of Damian's own.

Slade appears not far behind Damian, heading towards them.

Damian offers his hand before Slade can get there, and Khalid shakes his hand firmly, taking a deep breath.

"It's good to meet you," Damian says. He's got his father's demeanor as well, the one Khalid remembers from TV. New York City wasn't Gotham, but it was close enough to catch most of the news. "I see you've already met Thad."

"He guessed who my dad was," Thad says, clearly delighted by the whole thing for some reason Khalid doesn't get. He's saved from any further confusion by the arrival of Slade, who holds out a drawstring bag for him to take.

"For the helmet. Figured you won't want it tucked under your arm the whole time."

He takes the bag with a quietly murmured thanks, and tucks the helmet away inside it. He pulls the bag over his shoulders, letting the helmet rest against his back. It's not the same as holding it, but it's close enough that he isn't missing it's presence.

Maybe he shouldn't rely on it so much, but right then it and a single pair of very ragged clothes are the only things he has left.

"We're going to be heading to a restaurant and meeting everyone there," Slade adds. He's treating the whole thing like it's perfectly normal, business as usual, and Khalid is deeply thankful for that. He wants that normality. He wants things to be _normal._ "We've been there plenty of times, and they know us there. They've got a table all set up already for us, so that won't be an issue."

"What about the press?" Damian asks.

The press. The last thing Khalid wants is anything to do with _the press._ He knows some were lingering nearby, but it never felt like something he'd actually have to deal with.

"Not an issue. They aren't going to bother us in the restaurant, and when we leave Khalid can go out the back with someone."

"Era?" Thad says, and Khalid's having a hard time figuring out if Era is a name or... something _else._

"Sure. Might as well, since he's probably the least camera friendly."

Khalid keeps his confusion to himself, letting the conversation move on. He's likely to meet Era anyway (if they really are a person), so it's not as if he needs to stress about it right then.

"Alright, car," Slade says, gesturing for Khalid to go. "We've just got the one, so you can take the passenger seat." He doesn't ask Khalid to get his things or anything like that, which is good, because the last thing he needs is a new reminder of how little he's got.

The trip to the restaurant is interesting in a very strange way for Khalid. He's only generally familiar with the Gotham of his world, but he's still having a hard time reconciling what he knows of it with what he's seeing. The city they're driving through is clean and well lit. The streets aren't filled with potholes, and the sidewalks aren't covered in trash. The people walking look happy rather than miserable, and while Khalid was told things were better he's having a hard time accepting that.

Gotham was always a mess, and seeing it as something else is confusing.

The restaurant is a small Italian place on the north side of Gotham. There's a compass motif beneath an Italian word they pass too quickly for Khalid to read, and he's pretty sure he sees a sign on the door.

Probably _closed for private party,_ if he had to guess. They park around back, and Khalid tries not to think about anything too much.

It'll be alright. It's a nice fresh start and all he needs to do is focus on that fact. He has to keep his eyes forward, because if he looks back, he'll just end up remembering what he's lost.

"Boys," Slade says, and it takes a second for Khalid to realize he's talking to Damian and Thad. "Head on inside, I'm going to talk to Khalid for a moment."

"Oooh, pep talk!" Thad says, zipping away faster than Khalid's eyes can follow. Damian follows, although much more slowly, offering only a huff of apparent annoyance.

The moment the door's closed, Slade turns to Khalid. He's got that stern, serious sort of look that Khalid's come to expect from him.

"I know," Khalid says before he can start. "If I get overwhelmed, I can leave at any time, right?"

Slade's surprised expression is almost worth the fact that he was having to say it at all.

"Yeah," Slade replies. "Make whatever excuse you want. No one's going to judge you or think you're weird or anything. We've all got our own stuff."

Khalid sincerely doubts that, but he's too polite to actually say so. Instead, he nods, accepting it at face value, and looks towards the door.

He doesn't actually think he's ready to face what's inside, but it's not as if he's getting any _more_ ready.


	2. Chapter 2

The restaurant isn't actually closed for a private event, or at least that's what Khalid thinks when he first opens the door. The restaurant isn't very big, but the entire center of the room has been taken up with three long tables. There's more than a dozen people scattered about, seemingly moving around freely, and it takes almost a solid thirty seconds before Khalid realizes, to his dawning horror, that it _is_ closed to the public.

He recognizes several people. Thad and Damian are there, of course, chatting with a pack of boys who look identical. There are _three_ baby carriers set up around the table, and Khalid needs to take a second just to recognize what he's seeing, because Clark Kent—Superman _himself_ —is settled in at one of the tables, talking to a woman who might very well be his wife.

Being _told_ Superman went public and had a secret identity the whole time feels very different from being in the same room as him and being expected to eat dinner with him.

"There you go," Slade says, nudging him inside. "Just take a seat anywhere."

He says it like it's easy. Like Khalid should just be able to walk right on in and grab a seat next to _Batman_ or _Superman._

"I was... I mean, I was a hero, but I was never a _hero,"_ Khalid murmurs. "I shouldn't be... I don't belong here."

"Half the people in the room have never even _thought_ about playing at being a vigilante," Slade says. "Ren!"

One of the identical looking boys looks up, spots Slade, and then glances to Superman. Superman nods to him, and the boy—Ren—heads over to where Slade and Khalid stand.

"You're the new guy, right?" Ren asks, offering his hand. Khalid takes it, shaking it purely on instinct. Up close, Khalid can't help but feel that he looks like a younger version of Superman, which he reasons probably means he's related.

"That's me," Khalid says, and then takes a cautious guess. "You're Superman's son?"

Ren raises an eyebrow and takes a second to compose himself. Slade fails to cover a snort, and Khalid's face burns red.

"Clark? Yeah, he's my dad. I'm guessing no one gave you the run down?"

"Uh... no?" Khalid has a feeling someone was probably supposed to, but right then he's clueless.

"Alright, this way," Ren says, gesturing towards the table.

Khalid gets the impression it's the _kid's table._ Most of the younger people in the room (excluding, of course, the babies) are gathered around it, and while there's a fair degree of movement, there are still clear groups. The Waynes sit at one table, the Kents at another, and the kids meet in the middle.

Which means he's one of the kids, apparently. He's almost a decade older than some of the younger ones at the table, and the oldest by far as he takes the seat Ren gestures him to. It feels like a mercy that there are plenty of seats, because he can take one without worrying about who he's displacing.

"Guys, this is Khalid," Ren says. Khalid is _sure_ he must be a... quintuplet? That's the only explanation he can figure out for why there are five of him, distinguished exclusively by his hair and clothing. "Apparently no one told him about us."

"In our defense, we didn't know you were coming," Damian says matter-of-factly. "Otherwise I would have briefed him about you."

"Is... someone going to clue me in?" Khalid asks, wondering when they'll actually _explain_ rather than just talking around the point.

"You're going to want to pay attention," one of the other boys says, leaning forward. "You already know Damian and Thad, right? So they're the two youngest on the Wayne side of things." He nods towards the Wayne table, and Khalid simply nods, trying to follow along as best he can. "Then you've got me, Ren, Ore, Gar, and Blue over here."

"He's Yen, for the record," another one of the quintuplets says. Khalid swears his head is spinning. He feels like he's about to be quizzed on what he's hearing.

"We're clones of Clark's," Yen continues. "So he's our dad, and Lois is our mom. Our little brother is—"

 _"Older_ brother," the last unnamed person at the table says. Despite what he says, he's _clearly_ younger, maybe thirteen or fourteen. The older boys are more sixteen or seventeen, but Khalid's having a hard time guessing.

"Younger," one of the boys—Gar?—corrects.

Damian comes to Khalid's rescue.

"Jon's brothers are all clones, so they've only been alive a relatively short period of time, despite what they look like. Whether Thad or his brothers qualifies as _older_ is a subject of heavy debate. Personally, I believe that whether Jon wishes to admit it or not, he'll have to accept that the majority of people will assume he's the younger brother."

"He's not the youngest though," Ren says cheerfully. He nods towards the Kent table, and Khalid can only assume he's talking about the baby at the table. They've got bright red hair that sticks out among the rest.

"Little brother?"

"Brand new. He's a cute little kid, but so _picky._ He screams at everything."

"...Babies do that," Khalid says. At the very least he has a better idea of what's going on with the _kids._ Clones, new baby... He turns his head to look towards the Wayne table, squinting at the two black-haired babies there.

Thad catches him looking.

"Jon's little brother is Alex, and the other babies are Terry and Matt. They're also new, and they're Slade and Bruce's kids."

Khalid takes a guess.

"Via... cloning?"

Thad looks impressed and nods his head enthusiastically.

"Lots of cloning going on, really. Technically I'm a clone of... well, the original Flash. Most of the older people were just born the old fashioned way, though."

 _"I_ was born the old fashioned way," Damian sighs. "Not that it's helped me in any way."

"Did you have any brothers?" Jon asks, staring at Khalid expectantly, and he squirms at the discussion of his family.

"No. It was just me."

"Only child," Ren says, nodding his head. "I'm envious."

One of his brothers elbows him, which leads to a short (and very confusing) scuffle. Khalid figures he might as well make the best of it, turning his attention to Damian.

"Can you... uh, explain everyone? I only know some people."

Damian seems pleased by the fact that he's being trusted with something so important, and gets right to it, handling the Kent's first.

"Clark and Lois, of course," he says, nodding to the two people cooing over Alex. "And then the other two are Martha and Johnathan. They're Clark's parents, and they live with them right now to help corral the kids. And Alex, of course. The one talking with Johnathan right now is Alfred, and he's actually from our house. He's..." Damian scrunches up his face, apparently struggling to figure out how to answer.

"Your grandpa?"

"Yeah, pretty much. It's a bit more complicated then that, but... it always is."

No kidding.

"Khalid!" Slade calls, and his head snaps around, looking to Slade for some kinda rescue. Insight. _Anything._ "Why don't you come over and meet our neighbors." He's standing by the Kent's table, but that can't be right. There's no way they're just _neighbours._

There's no way Batman and Superman live on the same street.

He gets up anyway, heading over to make introductions. Up close, Superman looks like a perfectly normal guy. Even knowing who Superman is—even having seen him repeatedly in action—he has a hard time reconciling what he's seeing and what he _knows_.

"Khalid, this is Clark Kent," Slade says, nodding to Clark. The man stands, offering his hand, and Khalid swears his brain just _shuts down_. Superman. Superman is... he's shaking hands with Superman.

"Nice to meet you," Clark says. "I see you've met my many, many children."

"Except for Alex," Lois says. Alex is apparently uninterested in meet and greets, sleeping soundly despite the noise around him. "I'm Lois."

"Lois Lane, right?" Khalid says. He recognizes her—or her counterpart, anyway—from TV, and shakes her hand when offered.

"These are my parents, Jonathan and Martha. We have a house just behind Wayne manor, so if you ever need anything, feel free to stop by."

"You can see the house from the third floor," Martha says helpfully, as if Khalid has any idea what the house is like or what he may or may not see. "I'm sure you'll see plenty of us."

Khalid nods, trying to memorize every little detail before it becomes required for it to know. He wants to look competent, and there are a _lot_ of people whose faces he needs to memorize.

"Alright," Slade says, gesturing for him to go back the other way. "Time to meet the family. There will be a test."

He winks (a particularly exaggerated gesture to accommodate the fact that he only has one eye), and when Khalid doesn't laugh he backpedals.

"I was kidding. There's no test."

"I'd be fine with a test. It would probably help me learn everything faster." He did always work well with a deadline in mind.

"There's still no test," Slade says. "I'd have to write one up and god knows I don't want to."

Khalid still wishes there was.


	3. Chapter 3

As he approaches the Wayne table, Khalid mentally runs through everything he knows about them. Some faces are familiar, either because he's met them or because he's heard about them, while others are completely new to him. In particular, there's a serious looking man with black hair that strikes Khalid as familiar somehow, even if he can't place him at all. Most of the others are either recognizable or totally unknown, which leaves the grey-eyed man a complete mystery. He looks a bit younger than Bruce, but Khalid's having a hard time telling for sure without squinting blatantly, and he's trying not to be rude.

"Everyone, this is Khalid," Slade says, patting Khalid on the shoulder. "He's the one I mentioned who's going to come stay with us."

There's a round of _heys_ from around the table, and Khalid's eyes flick around, taking it all in. The mystery man is silent, watching Khalid intently.

"Introductions," Slade says, pointing to the man at his side. _Alfred,_ if Khalid remembers right. "This is Alfred Pennyworth. He's Bruce's..." He glances to Bruce, who nods almost imperceptibly. "Father." Beside him is Thomas Wayne, who is also Bruce's father."

Apparently his confusion shows on his face, because Thomas feels the need to correct.

"Not together."

"I didn't think you were," Khalid says quickly. Damian mention the older generation being _natural,_ which does make things confusing but... well, a normal level of confusing. Figuring out complicated families isn't _that_ strange, and in the end Khalid simply falls back on what he was taught: that it doesn't _really_ matter. As long as they consider each other family, that's enough for him.

"I believe you've already met Jason, Joey, and Will," Slade says, skipping past the ones he knows. "Damian and Thad... Oh, the man beside Thad is Era."

Era. The one who was supposed to smuggle him out back if he got overwhelmed. 

And of course Slade moves right along.

"The baby with the bat is Terry and the one with the bird is Matt," Slade says, gesturing to the stuffed toys being clung to by the babies. Matt's awake, staring up at him with wide eyes as he chews on the bird's wing, but Terry's asleep.

"Can we rewind?" Khalid asks, glancing to Era. "I think I have an idea of... ah, how the family is laid out, except..."

"Oh!" Thad says, leaning forward in his seat. "Era's my uncle. And kind of my bodyguard."

"I ensure security for the family," Era says. His voice is completely devoid of emotion and, if Khalid is being honest with himself, pretty weird, even by his standards.

"Uh. Well, nice to meet you," Khalid says, feeling like he has no better understanding of the situation then he did before he asked.

It's Jason who takes pity on him.

"Era's situation is complicated," he says. "Basically he joined the family because he was guarding Thad all the time, and now he's basically just gotten adopted in. We do that a lot, because this isn't even a _fraction_ of the whole family."

"Dick?" Khalid guesses. He's never met him, but he knows about Nightwing as a hero, and Jay mentioned him before. Easy enough to make the connection.

"Dick lives in Bludhaven," Bruce says. "He has a team up there he's working with. There's also Tim, who's married to Barbara—"

"I should probably admit I only knew about Dick because Jay mentioned him. I don't know who those people are otherwise, I never really, uh, met your counterparts before."

Bruce handles it with grace.

"Timothy is my third child—he moved out and lives elsewhere in Gotham. He married Barbara Gordon, who's the daughter of... well, you know Jim Gordon."

Khalid does, which helps his understanding a lot. It's a good reference point.

"We know it's confusing," Jason says. "Don't stress about it. The family's big and confusing and we're not expecting you to get it all."

"I think I've got it," Khalid says. He's always had a good memory, and it's not like the family is _that_ confusing. "Bruce has six kids, Will has two, and Slade has..." He considers, then guesses. "Four?"

Slade and Bruce exchange a glance that Khalid can't even guess at.

"Close enough," Slade snorts. "There's more to it, but those are the main ones. You're a quick learner, apparently."

"Why don't you tell us about yourself?" Alfred prompts. For once, Khalid doesn't feel put on the spot: he has a pretty good grasp of what he wants to say, and what he wants to carefully avoid talking about.

"Well, I am— _was_ a student before everything." Not a great start, really, but there's no choice but to keep going. "I hadn't had a chance to do the hero thing for very long, and I was... honestly split on if I wanted to keep doing it."

"How'd you get into it?" Joey asks. There's something surreal about the fact that Khalid can hear his voice perfectly, and yet Joey's mouth doesn't really seem to move.

"Uh, it's a long and kind of complicated story," Khalid says. The expressions he gets back in return are almost uniformly unimpressed.

"I mean, I'm from the future," Thad says before nodding his head to Joey and Thomas. "They're from another dimension. I'm sure we've heard weirder."

They probably have, so Khalid simply explains.

"Apparently gods—like, _the_ gods of different pantheons—exist and will tamper with things. Apparently Anubis was upset with the way things were, so he decided to drown the world, starting with New York. I have _the blood of the pharaohs_ through my dad's side, so Bastet chose me to wield the helmet of fate and stand up to him. My dad almost died and I was blind for a while, but in the end I sort of managed to, uh, squish him down to a reasonable level? Get him under control, anyway."

He doesn't mention his great-uncle. He should, but he doesn't want to talk about him right then. Maybe later. Maybe another time.

"Do we have those?" Thad asks, turning to Bruce and Slade expectantly. Slade shrugs, while Bruce pauses to consider, scratching at his chin.

"Probably. According to Diana, the old gods still exist, but they've effectively retired. They no longer wield the power and influence they once did. Apparently it takes most of the Greek pantheon's effort just to keep Themyscira intact."

"Probably tied to the lack of magic," Damian chimes in. "It would appear likely that magic and gods like that would be intertwined."

Khalid doesn't know how he feels about the lack of magic. Not too long ago he would have been delighted, magic being nothing more than an unpleasant interruption of his usual life. Now, he feels its absence like a missing limb.

"There's a lot of details like that which we should probably look into," Bruce admits. "I've already requested for Hal to stop by. I want to look into _Darkseid_ before he shows up to cause trouble."

"You should have already," Khalid points out. "His invasion started the Justice League."

Khalid gets the impression that they already knew that, but no one corrects him. It probably doesn't matter, or at the very least he hopes it doesn't.

He hopes it never matters. He hopes Darkseid never comes, and that the people here never have to deal with him the way they did.

"It's entirely possible things are different there. Earth isn't the only place that has different outcomes," Bruce continues. "From what we've learned from Hal and the Guardians, there are several planets whose fates have significantly deviated from what the other world had experienced."

"I have to admit I don't really know much about that," Khalid says. "I was only just starting the hero thing. I only know about the Lanterns because they... well, they have a wikipedia page, for one."

Or did. That's gone now too. So's everything.

They must sense his mood, because Bruce quickly moves the conversation on.

"Well, that's something we can deal with later. There's no telling when Hal will arrive, so probably better not to worry about it too much."

Khalid doesn't want to force them to carry the conversation entirely by themselves, so he does what he can to suggest another topic.

"I was wondering if you had any resources for... you know, new arrivals who want to get caught up. The more I see, the more obvious it gets that there were a lot of differences. Gotham is... well, a very different place."

Bruce and Slade share a glance, and Will offers him a shrug.

"You learn by experiencing it, mostly," he says. "Joey and I figured it out over time."

"Or you could just check online," Joey points out. "Plenty of _catch me up on modern history_ sites."

"Yeah, but you have to be careful about misinformation," Thad points out. "There's a _lot_ of that. Like, no one's quite figured out who I am, so half the people think I'm a new person Bruce adopted, and half seem to think I'm just a new arrival from another dimension, and only a few people think that I'm related to pop."

"If you're not sure about anything, just ask one of us," Bruce says. "We'll be happy—"

Bruce cuts himself off as a young man approaches. He's around the same age as Khalid himself, but the helpful addition of a nice outfit and a name tag makes it obvious that he's not _another_ new addition to the family.

"Mr. Wayne? I didn't want to interrupt, but I figured you probably wanted to put in some food orders."

As far as Khalid's concerned, any subject that isn't about his situation is a good one.


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the meal feels far more relaxed once introductions are over. The food—authentic Northern Italian—is delicious, and the focus is firmly off him. People come and go from the table as Khalid stays put, arriving to chat to whoever happens to be there at a time. The topics are casual, although every so often someone says something that makes him squint.

"I was going to stop by Riddler night—" Ore is in the middle of saying when he catches Khalid's intense squinting. He's not a Gotham local, but you'd have to completely ignore the news to _not_ know who Riddler is. Ore immediately clarifies for his benefit. "He runs an escape room."

"He... Riddler—the villain—runs an escape room?"

"Former villain," Bruce says. "Riddler, like many others, has cleaned up his act. He goes by Edward if you ever end up meeting him, but his escape rooms are completely safe."

"And impossible," Ore groans. "Riddler nights are the times when the owners let him go _completely_ crazy with it. So you get the coolest puzzles, only most people stall out on the first or second puzzle. My record is puzzle five."

"...Of how many?"

"Twenty." Ore sinks back into his seat, looking miserable. "I'm hoping to reach six this time."

Damian and Thad jump in, expressing their interest in getting in on the next one, an idea that seems absurd to Khalid. He keeps his mouth shut, well aware that some people seem fundamentally different between worlds.

Just because _his_ Riddler was a lunatic doesn't mean this world's one is.

"You'll get used to that," Jason says, leaning over to Khalid. "Lots of people you probably think of as super evil who are good guys here... or at least decent people."

"Like Bane," Joey points out, and Khalid raises an eyebrow.

"Nah, his Bane ended up a good guy, remember?"

"I don't really know him that well," Khalid confesses, feeling suddenly awkward again. "I didn't really interact with that group much, but he... I guess he got along with kids?"

"Hopefully you get along with kids," Will says, chuckling under his breath. "Because there's going to be a lot of them."

"I can manage just fine. I wasn't really around them a lot or anything, but... I'm sure i can manage."

He's had at least some amount of experience from his time as an EMT, even if most of that was unpleasant. The conversation, to his relief, moves on, and Martha comes over to chat to Alfred about plans for the weekend.

It all feels so normal.

The time Khalid gets the most attention is when he refers to Yen by name, which seems to get him more attention then expected.

"Wait, you know I'm Yen?" The boy asks, pointing at his face like he's expecting a no.

"Yes?"

"But I'm identical."

"You have completely different hair. And you're all wearing different clothes." Sure, they're quintuplets, but they're still pretty clearly different people.

"Yeah, but like..." Yen makes a face. "You just met us."

The fact that he knew Yen's name is apparently a _major_ oddity, because Gar leans in, squinting at Khalid.

"Probably doesn't know all of our names. You talked to him a bunch earlier, right?"

"You're Gar," Khalid says, craning his neck to spot the others and pointing them out in turn. "That's Blue, Ren, and Ore." He got a little bit tripped up by Yen and Ren (he can't _believe_ anyone would name their kids so similarly, but he supposes having five might be an extenuating circumstance).

Blue's mouth actually drops open slightly, and he scurries off to the Kent table as Khalid watches in confusion.

"Do you know _everyone?"_ Will asks. "Already?"

"You're all pretty distinct. I just have a good memory, I guess." He's torn between an instinctive desire to down play it and avoid the attention and a desperate desire to point out that learning people's names isn't _that_ hard. The Waynes are kind enough to take him in, and the least he can do is make sure he's not calling them _you over there._ It seems like he's going to be seeing a lot of the Kents too, so he wants to get ahead of that as quick as possible.

Will apparently feels the need to test him, because he starts pointing his finger at people.

"Bruce, obviously. Thad. Alfred," Khalid answers, and Alfred _humphs,_ reaching out to swat Will's finger down.

"I think that's quite enough. If Khalid says he's learned everyone's names, we shouldn't feel the need to test him on it."

"Learning names is a good habit," Thomas says. He's been fairly quiet, at least in comparison to the others, and it feels nice to have him provide something that's almost praise in response.

Clark takes that opportunity to arrive, leaning in over Bruce's shoulder.

"Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to let you know I'll be checking the last of the bases tonight. Work's been getting in the way, unfortunately."

"It's not particularly time-sensitive."

Thomas narrows his eyes, his wariness obvious.

"The League bases?"

"The League of Assassins, yes," Clark says, almost definitely for Khalid's benefit. "I've checked all the locations Ra's gave us, and they've all been duds. You should hear about it by tomorrow morning if I find anything at the last."

"Duds as in there's nothing there, or duds as in there was never a base?" Slade asks.

"Most of them have signs of having once had bases, but they've all been abandoned. I'd take this as a sign that the League truly isn't active."

"Thank heavens," Alfred says with a sigh. "With everything that's happened in the last week, finding out the League of Assassins of all things was still active would be a step too far."

There's a round of agreement, and the conversation moves on. By the time everyone's finished eating, Khalid can't help but feel tired. He's talked a lot. He's met a lot of people. Right then what he wants is a quiet place and a book to curl up with.

Bruce checking his phone is apparently the signal that things are wrapping up, because he tucks it away and gets to his feet.

"Press is starting to arrive. I'd recommend that Era and Khalid leave out the back—the owner's perfectly fine with that, and it would draw less attention."

"Have you flown before?" Era asks immediately, turning his attention to Khalid, who nods.

"I used to... I mean, I could fly with my magic. I don't normally fly with someone, but... well, it can't be that different."

It isn't. They head out the back (they don't even say goodbye, since they're all heading to more or less the same place) to a small back alley, shared with other restaurants on the same strip. Era doesn't ask how he wants to do things, just reaches out, grabs Khalid under the armpits, and lifts off.

It isn't comfortable. It's also not like flying under his own power. It's a lot rougher and harder on his shoulders, and there's a chill in the summer air he doesn't expect.

But it's flying. He always loved flying, and being in the air again just reminds him how much he's missed it. It just hammers home the most obvious and excruciating point of all: that this is it. He's never going to fly under his own power again. The magic that's been such a huge part of his life over the past year is never coming back.

Khalid doesn't cry on the flight to the manor, but it's a close thing.


	5. Chapter 5

Khalid knows Wayne Manor. He knows it the way he knows the Taj Mahal or Buckingham Palace: he recognizes them on sight, and he can imagine them in his minds eye, but he's never actually _been._

The building they're descending towards is not Wayne Manor.

It's too new, and the style's all wrong. It looks like a modern construction, three stories tall and lightly colored, nothing like the old New England-style country home he's imagining. There's even what looks like a particularly nice hot tub on the third floor balcony that they land on, but Era pays it no mind as he sets Khalid down and heads towards the door.

"This... is this the Kent's?" Khalid asks, feeling baffled. The Clark Kent he knew of was a normal reporter, and there's absolutely no way he could have afforded a house like this.

Maybe things are different. Superman being horribly wealthy seems more plausible then Wayne Manor being newly built.

"The Kent house is that way." Era points towards the back of the house, and Khalid feels his heart sink. This _is_ Wayne Manor. Another difference. "You are bothered by this."

"I'm just... caught off guard. This isn't at all like the Wayne Manor in my world. It was... well, it was an old English manor." Nothing at all like the building he's standing on. It's just another sign that things are _different,_ and he hates how much it bothers him.

"It was here as well. The original Wayne Manor was destroyed during a Kryptonian invasion only a few months ago."

"During a—"

"I believe there are plans to give you a more comprehensive understanding of our history, so I will spare you a lecture that will only be repeated. In short, there was a brief military invasion which began with the original Wayne Manor being destroyed. It was before my time."

Khalid has a lot of questions, but right then doesn't seem like the right time to ask any of them. Era's doing _something_ at the door, and waves Khalid over to join him.

"The house's security system is state of the art for reasons which I believe are obvious. I have accessed it now to allow us entry. Our first stop will be the security suite in the basement to allow you to be registered."

It all sounds very formal, but then everything Era does sounds exceedingly formal. Khalid simply nods and goes along with it, trying not to gawk too much as they descend down three flights of stairs to the sub-level. Khalid isn't sure it can be called a basement, considering it's practically a whole other floor rather than the unfinished areas he's used to, but he sees very little of it as he's lead into a small, _exceedingly_ high tech room.

Era is nothing if not efficient as he gestures to a palm scanner and a retinal scanner, and Khalid feels awkward but goes ahead and does it anyway. It's not like he has any _real_ objections to it, so it's just a matter of not letting himself stress over nothing.

"Everyone does this?"

"It will allow you to enter and exit the house as needed," Era explains. He's acting nearly robotic, and Khalid has no idea what his deal is. For all he knows, he _is_ a robot, and that thought is enough to make him gently broach the subject.

"You're a Kryptonian?"

Safe bet, considering he could fly.

"In a manner of speaking." Era doesn't follow up the statement, seeming to be focusing on his work, and Khalid steels his nerve and takes a stab at it.

"Is it something I should... avoid asking about?"

"No. While it is not public knowledge, any person closely involved with the family is aware of the truth. I was originally the Eradicator, a Kryptonian android intended for police and military work."

Oh. _Oh._

"Kryptonians gain additional strength under the light of a yellow sun, so my synthetic body was not able to keep up. As such, I was given a vat-grown Kryptonian body so that I could better serve my purpose. I was awakened recently with the directive of protecting Kryptonians."

Internally, Khalid is screaming. Really, he doesn't know how he manages to keep a straight face in light of what he's hearing.

"Based on his actions, I made the decision that General Dru-Zod had violated Kryptonian law many times over, and while no Kryptonian courts existed, my knowledge based included a thorough understanding. He would have been classed as a war criminal, and thus could no longer be considered a true Kryptonian."

Which means, if Khalid is understanding correctly, that Era _no true scotsman'd_ General Zod. No Kryptonian would act the way Zod did, therefore, Zod wasn't a _real_ Kryptonian.

"How did you end up here, then...?"

"Kandorian culture has deviated significantly from the original Kryptonian and thus could not be considered. Thad, while not Kryptonian himself, is the product of the highest level of Kryptonian engineering and is invested with significant knowledge of Krypton. That knowledge has been duplicated onto Kandor aboard Dru-Zod's war ship, but Thad remains the only one with such knowledge on Earth."

Khalid almost feels like he's going to regret his next question, but he _can't_ not ask.

"What about... Superman? Isn't he Kryptonian?"

"While physically Kryptonian, he was raised without knowledge of Kryptonian culture. As such, the best course of action was for Thad to educate both him and his children for the better preservation of Kryptonian ideals. Thad is busy with his own education, but has begun producing a textbook with which future Kryptonians could be educated."

Oh. Thad seems _young_ to be writing a textbook, but if he's the only one with that knowledge... It's better than the alternative, he supposes.

"So you're... just Era? Short for Eradicator?" Only having one name seemed strange right up until he learned that Era was effectively a robot that decided it could do a better job then the original set of instructions it was given.

"As part of the collective, I was simply an Eradicator. As a singular individual as one the last remaining Eradicator units, I was designed _Eradicator-e-Zod."_

"There are more of you?"

Era doesn't respond right away for once, looking over Khalid with an expression that _almost_ reads like interest.

Almost, but not quite, because Era is almost impossibly hard to read.

"Up until this point, no one has ever asked that. No, there are no more of me. A few units survived the destruction of Krypton, but they were destroyed in combat before I was transferred to a flesh and blood body. I was the only one to make that transition."

"You said you _were_ those things. But what's your name now?"

It's only because Khalid is watching so closely that he notices the slight twitch at the corners of Era's mouth. The man is deeply inexpressive, his emotions barely displayed, but right then he _almost_ smiles, the closest Khalid's seen to him showing a real human (or Kryptonian, in his case) emotion.

Apparently he likes his name.

"Era Wilson. As I primarily protect Thad, it was decided it would be appropriate for me to join the Wilson side of the family. As an uncle, or something approximating it."

He cocks his head suddenly and without warning, his head swinging around to look towards the door.

"I believe people are arriving home. You have been registered into the house's security system, so I would recommend we go greet them at the door."

Khalid doesn't mind getting out of the security room, and it isn't like he has any better ideas, so he simply nods to Era and lets him lead the way.

He's not sure he'd be able to find the front door if he tried.


	6. Chapter 6

Khalid is worried when they reach the door that he's going to have the _entire_ family showing him around, but apparently they've decided not to crowd him. Thomas and Alfred set off together, deeper into the house, and Era, his work done, simply _ascends_ directly upward. Thad and Damian race off to the upstairs after him (Thad, of course, wins).

"Who's giving the tour?" Jason asks, head swinging around as he glances between the others.

"I'll handle the kids if you guys want to do it," Will says, reaching down to take both baby carriers before anyone can stop him. "You can handle the tour."

Slade reaches down and scoops one of the babies—Khalid's good with names but not _that_ good—up, resting them against his chest. "I'll handle at least one. I think they'll go down pretty easily. All tuckered out." They excuse themselves with the kids, heading upstairs, and Khalid looks to Jason and Joey.

"Have fun!" Jason says perkily, throwing his arm around Joey's shoulder and marching away, leaving him behind.

Which means, very suddenly, it's just him and Bruce.

"Looks like I'll be the one giving you the tour, Khalid," Bruce says, flashing him a smile. "The house is fairly new, I'm afraid. The original Wayne Manor was destroyed, and this was rebuilt afterwards."

"Era told me the story when we arrived," Khalid admits. "This doesn't look at all with the Wayne Manor I'd seen pictures of, so I asked. But thank you for the tour, Mr. Wayne."

"Please, Khalid. You can call me Bruce. If we're going to be living together, I think we're more than ready for a first name basis."

Khalid doesn't think he knows Bruce all that well, but he nods along anyway. If Bruce wants to be called Bruce, then Khalid's going to call him that.

"Plus, I should probably mention before someone else corrects you, but I'm not Mr. Wayne anymore."

Khalid stares at him like a deer in the headlights.

"When Slade and I got married, we merged our names. I'm Wayne-Wilson, and he's Wilson-Wayne."

Khalid thinks that's a confusing way to do it, but he nods anyway. Simple enough. "And the boys...?"

Bruce winces, which really sets the tone for his explanation. "I'm not expecting you to remember them all, because it's... complex. Jason and Matt are Wilson-Wayne, and Damian and Terry are Wayne-Wilson." Khalid can't help but note that Bruce is, probably without meaning to, counting them off on his fingers. "Thomas is the only pure Wayne, Alfred is Pennyworth, and Joey, Will, Era, and Thad are all just Wilson."

Oh boy. Khalid has a good memory, but there's _no_ way he's going to keep all those straight, even if he's trying. Apparently his hesitation shows on his face, because Bruce gives him another friendly smile.

"Like I said, we're not going to expect you to remember them all. Everyone was happy enough with you getting our _first_ names right."

Something blurs to Khalid's right and he jerks back instinctively before he catches himself. It's just Thad, holding up a kitten that is...

That's Deathstroke as a cat. Their coloration is split right down the middle of their face, with half orange and half black. They've got bright green eyes, and they meow pointedly at Khalid, protesting being offered up.

"This is Jade," Thad says excitedly. "She's my kitten but you can play with her if you want, because Damian says it's good for her to be socialized more."

"It is!" Damian yells down from above. He's on the second floor balcony, but Khalid's too distracted by the realization that Era is floating well above him, just hanging motionless in the air near the top of the house. "Have you seen Portia? I think she's hiding."

"I can look!" Thad says, and then without any warning dumps the kitten into Khalid's arms and is gone in a zip.

"He's impatient," Bruce says quietly. "You'll get used to him zipping around, but if it bothers you, just say something and he'll slow down around you."

"I'll adjust," Khalid says quickly. It doesn't bother him, it's just... _new._ He's more distracted by the kitten in his arms, who's started purring contentedly where she's made herself comfortable.

Something zips by, and he can suddenly hear Thad talking to Damian somewhere up above. He glances to Bruce, who shrugs, and then Thad's back and Damian's running down the stairs.

"Portia's hiding, but I'll introduce you to her later. Titus is... somewhere."

"Being fed in the kitchen!" Will (or maybe Slade) yells from farther in the house. Khalid isn't one hundred percent sure on the difference in their voices, but he's pretty sure Will was mentioned as being the one who cooked.

"Titus is the family dog," Bruce clarifies for him. "Portia is Damian's cat."

"Titus is _my_ dog," Damian clarifies stubbornly. "I simply share him with you all."

"They're both friendly," Bruce continues, ignoring Damian's interruption. "If you're not big on animals, you can just avoid them, and they'll avoid you in turn."

"I'm fine with either. I'm... We had a cat before, so I'm good with cats. I'm less familiar with dogs, but it isn't as if I dislike them or anything."

"Well, I'm sure you'll run into them at some point. Why don't we start the tour?"

The house turns out to be bigger than it looks from the outside. There's a workout room, a large lounge, a kitchen (with breakfast nook), and a library that Khalid has to drag himself away from.

"The left side of the ground floor is the guest rooms. If you'd like, you could have your pick of them, or there's a separate guest house out back."

The basement has plenty to see, but the second and third floor has far less. It's mostly _that's Alfred's room_ or _that's the room I share with Slade._ But it does give Khalid a good idea of where he's going to need to knock if he needs someone, and by the time they've finished the tour he feels... maybe not _relaxed,_ but at least more comfortable than he was before.

"I think... if it's alright with you, I'll just stay in one of the guest rooms. It seems like it would be a lot easier on all of you if you didn't have to go out back every time you wanted to speak to me."

And he's read enough reports about _recovery after trauma_ to know that being alone in a house isn't likely to do him any good. "Is there anything else I should know?"

Bruce considers for just a moment, and then lets out a small laugh.

"Straight to the point, right? There's a bit of a routine in the house, but we're not firm with it. There's a lot of... coming and going. People will stop by at random. It's hard to say what you should or shouldn't know, and I'm sure there's a lot you'll pick up on. But if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask."

And then Bruce _himself_ hesitates, and Khalid goes stiff. Apparently reacting to that, Bruce holds up his hands, palms up.

"It's not something like that. It isn't a bad thing, but maybe we should settle into my office before we talk about anything serious?"

Even with Bruce's reassurances, Khalid feels a swirl of anxiety deep in his gut at the idea of Bruce having _something_ to tell him which is going to require them to sit down.

Bruce's office is more or less what he expects: all business, but with little signs of the family man who's sitting in front of him. He takes a seat in the chair across from Bruce's desk, but Bruce doesn't sit behind it, instead grabbing one of the other seats and pulling it out so the situation is less formal.

"We debated when—or _if_ —to tell you, but it was obvious to everyone that you would likely figure it out on your own, and we didn't want there to be any... confusion."

The feeling of dread only grows.

"I'll say up front that if you aren't comfortable with it, that's alright. We aren't going to hold it against you, and if you'd prefer to go elsewhere, we'll absolutely support that." The whole thing feels like Bruce is about to come out to him, only Khalid already _knows_ Bruce is married to Slade, and his brain is grasping at straws trying to figure it out.

"I.. I know you have a big lecture prepared, but I think I'd be more comfortable if you just said it," Khalid interrupts. His anxiety is through the roof, and Bruce seems like the sort of person who's going to spend the next thirty minutes leading up to it. Bruce makes a face, but it's not an angry one: more likely that he realizes that Khalid's right.

"Slade, Will, and I are a... trio," Bruce says, choosing his words carefully. "I'm unsure of how familiar you are with polyamory as a concept, but we're all equal partners. No secrets."

Khalid had absolutely no idea what Bruce was going to say, but even so the idea that he and Slade are _involved_ with Will is probably the last thing he'd ever have thought of. He stares blankly for a second, stunned, as he tries to wrap his head around the implications.

"Does... everyone know?" He finally asks, wary.

"The public does not. No one at the shelter knows, for example, which is why you weren't told before you got here. We understand the public would likely not react well, and have opted to keep it a secret, at least for the time being. In the house? Yes, everyone knows. For that matter, some of them knew Will had feelings before he did." Bruce actually smiles a bit at that, his hands folding together in his lap. "Honestly, you're taking it better than I expected."

"I have... _had_ a friend in college who tried it. It didn't really work and the whole thing just turned into a mess of everyone being jealous that they weren't getting enough attention, so I at least... I mean, I know what it is."

He's not really sure how he thinks about it. At a bare minimum, he knows it's absolutely not the sort of thing he'd be interested in, but others?

"I guess..." He pauses, taking a moment longer to compose his thoughts before he continues. "I suppose I've always been a _live and let live_ kind of person. If it isn't hurting anyone else, and you're all happy, I don't think it's anyone else's place to judge. I... I'm not going to say I don't think it's a bit _weird,_ because Slade and Will are—"

Bruce holds his hand up, and Khalid goes quiet.

"I know what you're going to say, and I can't blame you for having that opinion. When we first encountered alternate dimensions we absolutely viewed our counterparts as... well, other versions of ourselves. But over time we've come to accept that there's a great deal different, and started acting accordingly. Slade and Will are _very_ different people, as you'll learn over time. They have different interests, personalities... I suppose it would be accurate to say that I like Will for his differences with Slade as much as his similarities."

He hasn't seen as much of Will, so it's hard to see what Bruce means, but he nods anyway. He's willing to try, he supposes. To be open to the idea.

"I'll treat them as different people," he says, and Bruce smiles at him, his serious expression gone.

"I didn't doubt it. I'm sure you'll do just fine here, Khalid. Slade things so as well. You'll fit right in."

Khalid blushes a little bit, and coughs in a poor attempt to hide it.

"Was there anything else...?"

"No, just that," Bruce replies. "The big secret. Outside, please be discrete about it, but considering you _did_ spend time as a hero, I'm sure you're aware of the importance of keeping a secret like that."

Khalid nods, and then asks what's _really_ on his mind.

"...I don't suppose I could go take a better look at the library?"

"Oh, you'll get right along with Jason. He's a big reader. Feel free to take any book you want that isn't behind glass back to your room... and for that matter, feel free to take your pick of the rooms when you're ready. If you need anything, just flag someone down."

"Thank you," Khalid says, getting to his feet. He's still not sure how he feels about... _everything,_ but at the very least it's better than what his brain was coming up with, vague, half-formed ideas that didn't even make much sense at all. "I will."

He excuses himself to the library, in desperate need of some new reading material.


	7. Chapter 7

The library feels familiar in a strange sort of way. It's not familiar like _home,_ because Khalid's never lived in a house even a fraction of the size of Wayne Manor, but because it reminds him of what life was like before everything fell apart. It reminds him of spending hours in the university library pouring over books with notes in the margins. It reminds him of study groups and competing for study rooms with other students.

It's the feeling of it.

He walks among the stacks, winding his way through the library as he takes it all in. There's all kinds of books, and the entire library seems to be organized around a small reading area right in the middle. There are glass cases by the sitting area, and when Khalid leans over he recognizes, in a very general sense, that he's looking at something that's probably worth more than his entire family. It's a copy of the _First Folio,_ and even if he's never had much interest in Shakespeare he knows it must be valuable. The durable glass and what looks like a climate control system only makes it that much more obvious.

But he's not there to read old plays. The library is actually _organized_ (unlike most home libraries), and it's easy enough to find what he's looking for. He pulls three _learn ASL_ books, creating a stack beside one of the armchairs, and then goes looking for other things. Whatever's been happening with the Waynes ( _Wayne-Wilsons,_ his mind corrects) is too recent to be in any published book, but he finds one that purports an overview of the recent history of Gotham that was published (assuming that they're even in the same _year_ as his home) four years before.

It's probably the best opportunity he has without access to the internet.

He settles into the chair and gets to reading, but he has a hard time comparing. He doesn't know enough about Gotham's history in his worlds to be able to pick out differences other than the broad details, and the broad details seem to mostly be the same. Batman arrives, Robin on the scene, Batgirl, Nightwing... He knows all the names, even if he doesn't really _know_ them. The book only mentions Bruce in the sense of _Bruce Wayne, Gotham Billionaire,_ not _Bruce Wayne, literally the Batman,_ which makes it a great deal less useful.

He speed reads through it, and he's about half done when there's a loud yowl and a cat lands on his lap.

The whole thing is so disorienting that it takes Khalid a second to figure out what happened—the cat must have jumped off the top of one of the shelves and landed squarely in his lap—but even that isn't fast enough for the cat, who yowls at him in apparent irritation.

"Portia, right?" He asks, reaching down to scratch Portia between the ears. She's a pretty cat, with grey-blue fur, but she's also _loud as it is possible for a cat to be,_ and shows no hesitation in headbutting Khalid's hand when he pulls it away to flip the page. Portia wants all the attention, and when Khalid doesn't give it to her, she simply jumps up, knocking the book from Khalid's hands and then racing to sit on it before Khalid can grab it.

Khalid lets out a laugh, giving up the attempt. Reading obviously isn't in the cards, so he scoops Portia up, carrying them in the crook of his arm as he returns the book to its place on the shelves.

"You're so needy," Khalid mumbles, scratching under Portia's chin. "You'd think with all the people here you'd get enough attention, but nooo. Probably jealous of the kitten, aren't you?"

Portia yowls at him again, and Khalid takes it as a yes.

Any time he tries to do anything that would give Portia his less than complete attention, the cat makes her displeasure known. Khalid's been sitting in the armchair giving her attention for maybe twenty minutes when Will leans into the library, opening his mouth to say something, and then pauses.

He stares.

Khalid stares back.

"...Hi?" Khalid says, _very_ confused about why Will hasn't said anything, and then only becomes _more_ confused when Will simply _withdraws_ without a word, sliding out of sight.

"...Well that was weird," Khalid mutters under his breath. He knows that's not going to be the last of it, so he keeps his eye on the door, and of course he isn't surprised when, not a full minute later, Will leans back into the doorway to squint at him.

What _is_ surprising is that, moments later, Slade does the same thing, followed by Bruce. It's almost comical, like something out of the three stooges, and Khalid can hear them murmuring to each other, even if not what they're saying.

"Alright," he says loudly enough to irritate the cat on his lap. "Is someone going to tell me what's going on?"

"That isn't Portia," Slade says, finally stepping out into the open. "That's Dexter."

Khalid's pretty sure they never mentioned another cat, but it's not as if it makes a big difference.

"So?"

Bruce makes a face, and Khalid can't stop himself from noticing that they're all keeping a nice, _safe_ distance from him and Dexter.

"Dexter is Will's cat," he explains. "Portia is Damian's. Portia is... well behaved and friendly. Dexter is..."

"A hellbeast," Will says with a laugh. "You're the first person Dexter's played nice with."

"We _were_ looking for him because he slipped out," Bruce adds, "he's been trying to get near the kids, and that... would probably be bad. We've been trying to keep them separate."

None of them seem like the sort of people who'd exaggerate something like that, but Khalid's having a hard time reconciling what he's heard and what he's actually witnessed. The cat—Dexter, apparently—is needy, but he's also been perfectly friendly.

"He's been behaving," Khalid says, feeling slightly silly coming to defense of a cat he's only just met. "Needy for attention, but behaving."

Will in particular squints at Dexter, and then glances to Slade and Bruce and offers a shrug.

"If he's going to behave, he's going to behave. Apparently he just really likes Khalid for some reason."

"As long as he's under control..." Bruce doesn't look at all convinced that he's going to stay under control, so Khalid opts to test the waters, picking up Dexter and setting them down on the floor before standing up. By the time he's bent down to collect the books into his arms, Dexter has decided that his feet are the best possible place to sit, and it takes a bit of wiggling to get them back and start walking towards the door.

Despite the fact that all three people in the doorway are seasoned professionals who can _absolutely_ handle themselves, they part with a clear abundance of caution, letting Khalid go past as Dexter sticks close to his heels.

"I'll be damned," Slade mutters under his breath. "If nothing else, this works out—means we don't need to keep Dexter in Will's old room."

Everyone—including Khalid—are of the opinion that would be best, so Will simply lays out what he expects.

"If he goes running off, yell for someone so we know. Don't let him near the kids, because none of us want to risk that. If he starts getting aggressive, let us know..."

"I get it," Khalid says. He knows they're just being overly cautious, but it definitely feels like he's being babied. "I know you're being cautious, but I can handle cats."

Slade squints at him for a long moment.

"Can you... talk to cats?"

The question is so nonsensical that Khalid actually _laughs,_ before he catches himself and realizes that Slade is being completely serious.

"No," he says firmly. "I can't talk to cats. I just... am good with them."

Slade's _hmm_ feels telling, but that doesn't stop Bruce from taking charge. He shows Khalid to the guest rooms, one eye focused on Dexter, and Khalid doesn't see much of a difference, so he simply picks the first one. 

"You're going to need some more clothes then what you have," Bruce adds, giving Khalid's outfit a pointed look. "Someone will take you shopping tomorrow, and we can go from there."

Khalid wants to say that isn't necessary, but the fact is that it _is_ necessary. He doesn't even have pajamas to sleep in, and as things stand he's going to be wearing the same clothes tomorrow. He ponders asking about a cat bed, but Dexter's already made himself comfortable on the bed, so he doesn't bother.

"I really can't thank you enough for everything, Mr. Wilson-Wayne," Khalid says as politely as he can manage. "If there's anything I can do..."

"You've already done more than enough. I've always felt bad about keeping Dexter in just one room, but at the same time I wasn't willing to risk him biting the boys either. I'm just happy to see him out and about."

Khalid's happy to have _something_ to do, but more then that he's happy to not be alone. Dexter isn't a person, but he's still a comforting presence as Khalid gets ready for bed, and when Dexter curls up under his arm to go to sleep, it's one more sign that he's not alone.


	8. Chapter 8

Something furry rubs against Khalid's hand, drawing him out of his dream. There's a flash of dark fur, and his sleepy brain makes a connection it shouldn't have.

"Puck...?"

Dexter yowls in his face and headbutts him, which makes it painfully clear to Khalid that it's _not_ Puck. He rolls onto his back, reaching up to rub at his face, and then makes himself sit upright.

So much for sleeping in. Dexter settles in on top of his legs, staring up at Khalid expectantly, and Khalid stares back, just as expectantly. Maybe he's gone crazy, but a part of him is really, _truly_ expecting Dexter to talk, and when Dexter doesn't, Khalid makes an attempt.

"Bastet, is that... ah, you?"

Dexter stares at him, and Khalid immediately feels silly. He _knows_ magic doesn't exist here, and the ability for a goddess to posses a cat would most definitely be magic. He slides Dexter off his legs and gets out of bed, trying to put the whole stupid idea behind him as quickly as he can manage. He shaves despite the fact that he's liable to have stubble before lunch, happy for the toiletries but not the lack of clothes. He ends up in the same clothes he was wearing the day before, which makes his time showering feel wasted, but at the same time he's not going to attend breakfast _without_ having showered.

He weighs his options with the helmet, and opts to leave it on the desk. He isn't going anywhere, and it's not as if he _needs_ it or anything.

Dexter's waiting by the door for him when he's done, and when Khalid opens the door he almost thinks that Dexter's going to stay. He makes it three steps down the hall before something hits his back, and he goes still, trying to balance as fifteen pounds of cat abruptly take up residence on his shoulder.

"You are not _nearly_ small enough to be doing this," Khalid protests, but he doesn't bother forcing Dexter off. He figures he'll hop off before long, and he's proven horribly wrong when Dexter rides him all the way to the kitchen.

The whole family—or what seems like the whole family—gawks at him.

"I thought you were kidding," Jason mutters under his breath. "He tamed Dexter?"

"I think Dexter tamed _me,"_ Khalid says with a sigh. More or less he's just let Dexter do what he wants, and he's not sure _why_ that's such a big deal.

"I still think it's magic," Will says. "Dexter's been spoiled rotten and fed the best food possible, and yet you're the only one he doesn't hate."

"Maybe it's like being a familiar?" Alfred suggests. "It might actually be a genuine part of magic, even if magic _is_ significantly reduced here."

Khalid's been dismissing the idea of it being _magic,_ but the more he thinks about it, the less convinced he becomes.

"It could be Bastet," Thad says, glancing between the group. "You said she chose you to be Doctor Fate, right? Maybe she left her mark, and that's what Dexter's responding to."

He can't actually rule that out, so he offers a shrug. It's entirely possible that Bastet _did_ leave some kind of sign on him for other cats to recognize. There's no way to prove he didn't, and thinking about it gives him a strangely pleasant feeling deep in his belly.

He wants it to be true, he realizes. He wants there to still be magic. He wants that connection to the life he led. He doesn't want to feel like it didn't even happen.

"Maybe. I can't rule it out, anyway."

"Something to look into," Bruce says with a shrug. "There's a lot we don't know. Diana might have some idea."

There's an _extremely_ conveniently timed knock at the door, and Damian goes to get it without a word. Khalid isn't sure he's ever going to get used to seeing Superman in a completely ordinary situation, but the fact that he's arrived at Wayne Manor on Khalid's second morning there tells him that he's going to need to get used to it sooner rather than later.

"Morning everyone!" Clark announces, friendly as can be. He apparently sees fit to be extra friendly with Khalid, because he turns, ostensibly to greet him, and then pauses when he sees Dexter. "...Is that Dexter? That isn't... another cat?"

"It's Dexter," Slade confirms. "Apparently Khalid is the cat whisperer."

Clark's look of confusion is genuinely hilarious, and Khalid has to bite back a laugh at Superman—the world's hero and all that—looking at him like a particularly confusing math problem.

"Huh," Clark finally says, glancing back towards the table. "I just wanted to let you know that I finished checking the last of Ra's leads last night. Based on what I found, we can firmly say that this world's League of Assassin's is defunct."

There's an audible sigh of relief around the table. Khalid doesn't join in, but from what he knows, that's undeniably a good thing. They're called _the League of Assassins,_ for one.

"I should get back home, I've got an article to write. I just wanted to stop by," Clark adds, and his goodbyes are so quaint and normal that it makes Khalid's head spin. He finally manages to get a seat at the table, and Will seems to materialize out of thin air, dropping a plate of food off.

"So what's everyone planning to do today?" He asks as he does, scanning the table pointedly.

Apparently a lot of people have _school_ or _work,_ and without either of those things Khalid's more interested on establishing the baseline for what life is going to be like. He knows things aren't going to be normal, but he desperately wants for things to at least fall into a routine.

"I had plans to take you shopping," Slade says with a sigh, "but League business has come up, and Bruce is handling some Wayne business this afternoon."

"If no one else is available, I'd be happy to assist," Alfred offers to Khalid's complete lack of surprise. He seems like he handles a lot of the house stuff, and making sure Khalid has clothes does seem like the sort of thing he'd handle.

"Why don't you go with him?" Bruce says, and Khalid turns his head to find Bruce staring pointedly at Thomas.

"...Me?" Thomas seems just as mystified as everyone else, but Bruce very clearly has some kind of a plan in mind.

"You said you needed to get new pants. If Khalid needs to go, it's killing two birds with one stone."

Shopping isn't exactly Khalid's idea of a good time, but he supposes that spending some more time around Thomas might help him get a better feel for what the old man is like. It's nice, neutral ground, and more exposure to people individually will be good for him.

Thomas seems less than enthusiastic, but after a bit of grumbling under his breath he offers a shrug.

"Why not? I've got a few other things I need to pick up while we're out, so I might as well make the most of it."

"Then it's settled," Bruce says. "If you— Oh!" Whatever Bruce just remembered seems to take him aback, and he quickly checks his pockets, producing a small slip of paper which he holds out for Khalid. There's a number written on it and the word _chillidogs,_ but no context or anything else. "You need to get a phone. If you give them the account number and the pass phrase while you're there, you'll get put on the account."

Khalid wants to protest, but a phone's going to be absolutely fundamental to getting anywhere, so he simply nods.

"I really can't thank you enough, Mr. W—"

"Bruce."

"Bruce," Khalid corrects. His instinct is always _Mr. Lastname_ or _Professor Lastname_ or _Doctor Lastname,_ and just being on a first name basis with _Bruce Wayne_ isn't something he'll get used to any time soon. "I can't thank you enough."

"It's nothing, really," Bruce says with a wave of his hand. "I'm just sorry I can't go along, but my schedule never works out the way I want it to."

Khalid can understand, and he offers a short laugh as he digs into his food.

"It never does."


	9. Chapter 9

Dexter isn't happy that he's leaving, but Khalid doesn't give him a choice. He simply picks the hissing cat up off his shoulder, setting Dexter down as they head down to the garage.

"Stay here," he says as if the cat understands him. "And behave yourself while we're at it."

Khalid chooses to interpret Dexter's yowl as one of agreement, but obviously no one else does, because the response from the rest of those watching is to either take a quick step away from Dexter or at a minimum to eye him warily.

The car they take is one of Bruce's, a fact made obvious by the bat-shaped air-freshener hanging off the rear-view mirror. Khalid doubts his license is valid, so he lets Thomas drive, wondering all the while if _he_ even has his license. He doesn't actually know that much about Thomas, and how long he's been there is one of those things he doesn't know.

They drive mostly in silence, but after a little while Khalid decides that if Thomas isn't going to talk, he's going to have to. The promise he made to Slade weighs on him, even if he knows without a doubt that Slade isn't going to hold it against him.

"You're from another dimension as well?"

"I said that before," Thomas says. His tone is harsh, and he seems to realize that he's snapped almost immediately, because he grumbles a bit, slouching in the seat, and takes it down a notch. "I can only imagine that one of my son-in-laws have decided the two of us should get along, and that's why we're doing this. Bruce isn't the type to think of something like this."

Khalid doesn't know any of them well enough to weigh in on it, but he can at least address the concept.

"We apparently have a lot in common."

"Coming from shitty home dimensions isn't fertile ground to build a friendship on," Thomas points out, not incorrectly. "I've got, what, thirty years on you? We don't have a thing in common, and from what I've heard, beyond being shitty our worlds went completely different ways."

Nothing Thomas is saying is wrong, which makes it that much harder to argue with him. Khalid doesn't even _want_ to argue with him, so instead he tries to sidestep it entirely.

"I couldn't tell you. I don't know anything about the world you're from—no one told me."

He doubts Thomas would like someone else filling Khalid in, so he tries to leave the door open for Thomas to do it himself. It does work, but not quickly, and Thomas grumbles a little bit, silent for a while before he answers.

"I'm from an alternate timeline of the one they call Universe-B, where Joey and Will are from. Their Flash tried to tamper with the timeline, and that caused my world to form. It wasn't... it wasn't a good world. Even if the changes he made were minimal, it had a ripple effect. He never became the Flash, and other things played out differently. Bruce—" He falters for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing. Khalid's not entirely sure he should be driving while telling the story, but he's handling the car just fine. "My Bruce died. In every other history I'm aware of, my wife and I die in the alley of Park Row. I'm assuming it was the same where you were from."

His look is pointed and leaves no room for dodging the question, so Khalid nods.

"The death of— of my world's version of you and your wife is pretty famous. Before that, Gotham was just another city, but at least in my timeline, that changed things. It caused the city to spiral into what it is to— what it _was."_

Gotham's a forest now. Khalid doubts there's more than a dozen people scattered through the city.

"In my world, Bruce was the one who took the bullet. It changed things. _Broke_ things. We didn't have a Justice League, and the Amazons and Atlanteans went to war. Destroyed Europe. It was the end of days for us until Barry showed up."

"Because... you're Bruce's dad?"

The whole explanation is a bit hard to follow, but not because of Thomas's explanation so much as the fact that the scale of what he's talking about is so _vast._ It's hard to imagine, really. 

"Because I was Batman. In my world, I decided to make sure that no one else was going to suffer the way I had. I made it my crusade to stop crime in Gotham, even knowing it was impossible. I... was extreme in my methods, but it was an extreme world. There wasn't room for method's like Bruce's there."

He sounds almost defensive, and Khalid wonders who he's fought with over his _methods._ The implication is clear enough: he was a Batman who killed.

"Barry?" He prompts.

"Barry explained that the timeline we were in was wrong. He told me what he'd done and asked for my help. I wanted... I wanted a better world, even if it meant I was dead in it. I wanted a world where my son could grow up and be happy."

Khalid feels like a hand is clutching at his heart. In his mind's eye he can see his father saying those words, and the memory feels raw and painful.

"You alright?" Thomas asks, and Khalid wonders how long it's been since he started zoning out, his hands squeezed together in his lap so tight that his fingers ache.

"No."

Maybe it's the EMT training he had, but his first instinct is almost always the truth, especially when it is how he feels. Even so, he feels stupid the moment he says it, and quickly clarifies. "I'm just... I just had a moment. I'll be alright."

Thomas's expression looks worried, but Khalid doesn't want that kind of worry. Not right then.

"You should finish your story. What happened?"

"We don't have to finish—"

"I might as well— I'll be fine." He doesn't even sound convincing to himself, so he tries again. "It was just... it happens. I'll get over it."

"If it's bothering you—"

"It wasn't your story. It was just... just a small, little thing. It's not a big deal."

 _It is a big deal,_ a voice in the back of his mind says, but he ignores it. People have been through worse. He can manage.

"There's not much else to it. Barry and I worked together. With his help, we tracked down my world's version of Superman. We helped him get his powers back, and he went and fixed the timeline."

Khalid laser-focuses on the story. The story is a distraction he so desperately needs, and he's not going to let his mind wander.

"Then how did you end up here?"

"Simple version... One of the reasons the timeline existed was because the Reverse Flash tampered with things. He was... angry I'd worked with Barry to fix it. He wanted me to see what a mess the world I'd made was. Before my universe repaired, he dragged me into the Speed Force with him and dumped me in the new version of Gotham. A lot of things happened I'm not particularly proud of, and when Bruce and Slade were going back here, I took the opportunity to have a fresh start."

There's obviously a _lot_ Thomas is glossing over, but it's also clear he doesn't want to talk about it. Considering what he's just shared, Khalid's having a hard time imagining what could bother him enough he doesn't want to talk about it, but he's wary about pressing any further.

"That's it," Thomas says, nodding out the windshield, and Khalid turns his attention to what's in front of them.

A mall. A perfectly ordinary mall. It doesn't even feel _real,_ but there it is, waiting for him.

Khalid isn't sure he's ready.


	10. Chapter 10

The mall didn't feel real. It felt like a relic of a bygone era, a world he was no longer part of. It felt like a dream, and not in the pleasant, warm-and-fuzzy feelings way.

In the _reality is fake_ sort of way.

Thomas didn't seem to be paying much attention to him as he coasted through their errands. There were clothes to pick up, and some extra toiletries, and then a phone (top of the line and paid for without so much as a second glance by Thomas). Thomas seemed to have a plan for how he handled things, and it was easy to simply go along with it, offering no objections.

He's midway through picking out pants—shockingly easy to do without thinking—when Thomas grunts.

"Doesn't feel real, does it?"

It's so perfectly on the nose for what he's thinking that it catches Khalid off guard, and he takes a few confused seconds of awkward blinking to come up with a response.

"I... no. Not really."

"You'll get used to it."

Thomas is obviously saying it because _he_ got used to it, and Khalid isn't sure how he feels like that. A part of him feels almost bitter, and something hard and mean makes him wonder if he 's not just the latest pet project for the Waynes.

He regrets the thought as soon as he has it. Slade and the others have been nothing but kind to him. Everything he has, he has because of them. Without them, he'd... he doesn't even know, really. Probably still be at the shelter, only even the shelter hte others from his world are staying at is only because of the kindness of Slade and the others.

"I don't meant that flippantly," Thomas says, and there's something in the way he's looking at Khalid (and he _is_ looking at him, his expression focused and maybe even concerned). "I mean it seriously. Every day you spend here, things will feel more normal. That... anxiety you feel will go away. It'll come back sometimes, but it won't be as bad as it is now. It's just a matter of time."

 _Definitely_ speaking from experience.

"I just... wish it was faster," Khalid admits. He wants things to be normal. He wants to go back to how things were, only he knows he can't. The life he had was gone. "There's so much I have to think about, and it just feels like a lot."

Thomas grunts.

"You're already doing better then I was. I didn't really talk to anyone about anything when I first got here, and that was having months to adjust while I was in the other universe."

Khalid wonders if they should be talking about things so openly, and takes a quick glance around, checking for anyone listening in. There's no one, though. Khalid has no presence and no officially published photos, and while people in Gotham might recognize Thomas talking to him one on one, at a glance he's just another grey haired old man, one of thousands in Gotham alone.

"You'll be fine. They're good at this sort of thing."

Khalid words what he says next very carefully.

"Rehabilitating... people from other dimensions?"

"If you want to put it that way," Thomas says, digging through a pile of pants to find his size. "Bruce wants everyone to be the best versions of themselves. He went on his life changing journey, got his shit together, and now he wants everyone to do the same."

It's almost _physically impossible_ for Khalid to imagine Bruce Wayne, hero of Gotham and _literally Batman_ not having his shit together. Apparently his disbelief is obvious, because Thomas shakes his head and clarifies.

"Bruce had a lot of issues. Poor relationships with his kids, hyper-focused on the _Batman_ part of his life rather than the _Bruce Wayne_ part of it. He was a mess. Slade helped him pull himself together, he fixed all his issues, and now here he is, happy and healthy. If he could, he'd help everyone the same way."

It's an interesting bit of perspective, and Khalid lets himself dwell on it in silence. The idea of it feels almost _strange,_ because he's used to Bruce being... well, _Bruce Wayne_ (even if he's technically Wayne-Wilson) that it just doesn't line up. Even if he doesn't think he knows Bruce all that well, everything Thomas says flies in the face of what he does know to the point where it defies belief.

"That hard to believe?" Thomas asks, his face cracking into a smile. "It's true. The other Batman—the first one I ran into when Reverse Flash dropped me off—was the same way, only worse. Bruce is a much better person than he was."

There isn't anything more to say about it, and they end up moving on. Khalid's arms end up laden with bags as he fills out a previously empty wardrobe. There seems like a nearly endless number of things to buy, and every time he thinks he's done, there's more. He has a phone, he has clothes. He has toiletries (some of which were already at the house, but it feels nice to pick up old, familiar brands) and other odds and ends. He even picks up a notebook and some pens just to have a place to write his thoughts.

He always did like putting pen to paper, even if a digital notepad would do.

They're in the middle of picking up some stuff for the house when, rather abruptly, the man behind the counter recognizes Thomas.

"Tommy?"

If the name wasn't jarring enough, the fact that Thomas smiles at the man—easily twenty years his junior and rough around the edges looking—and reaches out, engaging in some kind of absurd _fist bump handshake._

Khalid's having a hard time following.

"Didn't think I'd see you again," the man says, his smile wide and infectious. Thomas checks over his shoulder—no one behind them in line—and then props his elbow on the counter, leaning in casually.

"I could say the same, Law. Didn't realize you were out already."

"Oh come on, with what's been going on? Half the wing's out already."

"I didn't think they'd work so fast."

Khalid is _not_ following. He has no idea what they're talking about, and context clues aren't helping him in the slightest. He gets that they knew each other from _somewhere_ , and aside from that? He doesn't have a clue.

"Well, your son's got a way of lighting fires under their ass, so you can pass on our thanks. The moment the Wayne name got involved, suddenly all the hard-asses were gung-ho about _looking into currently active policies_ and shit like that."

Normally Thomas is good about cluing Khalid in, but right then he's being less than useless. Khalid clears his throat to draw their attention, hating that he's interrupting the conversation but also desperately wanting to know what the hell they're talking about.

"Oh, who's this?" The man asks, turning his head to Thomas. "Friend of yours?"

"Guest of the family," Thomas explains, completely leaving out where he's from, or even his name. "Needed some new clothes, so here we are."

The guy behind the counter—Law, apparently—leans forward a bit, giving Khalid a wolfish grin.

"The guys you're staying with? They're good people. Don't be afraid to stick around them, because they'll do right by you."

"Obviously no one told him I'd been to prison."

Thomas's statement catches him completely off guard, and apparently he's not quite fast enough at hiding his surprise. Thomas looks irritated, but Law takes it in stride.

"No no, be freaked out by me, not him. Thomas here was only in prison on a technicality. The man's a fucking hero. He should have gotten a medal, not jail time."

If _Bruce Wayne used to be a terrible father_ made his head spin, _Thomas Wayne was in prison_ nearly makes his head detach. It doesn't fit. It doesn't make sense.

Thomas slides over his card, raising an eyebrow at Law, and gestures for him to get a move on.

"It was good seeing you, but I can't stand here chatting all day."

"Let's not kid ourselves, you absolutely could," Law says, but he gets to work checking them out.

Khalid stays silent. He doesn't know how to handle what he just heard. He doesn't know how to reconcile what he's seen of Thomas and what he now knows. Thomas doesn't push him to talk as they finish up in the store, but he also knows that he hasn't heard the end of it.

They're going to have a talk, and Khalid is desperate to avoid it.


	11. Chapter 11

Khalid fully expected the conversation to happen later, at home. Maybe with Slade and Bruce (and maybe even Will) there to help.

Instead, it happens in the food court not even five minutes later. Thomas apparently isn't one to wait around, because he leads them right up to the fast-food Chinese place, orders for both of them, and then settles in at a table without anyone immediately nearby.

"So," he says, tone perfectly even, "they didn't tell you."

"There... are probably a lot of things they didn't tell me," Khalid points out. There's probably dozens, maybe even _hundreds_ of things he has no idea about. Things they didn't think were important enough to share. Things they kept from him for any number of reasons. Just because they invited him to stay with them doesn't mean they owed him _every_ secret.

Thomas _hmmms_ and digs into his food. Khalid can't decide if he's buying himself time before the conversation, or just hungry, but he quickly mimics the motion, eating some of his own food before Thomas can try and get him talking.

He doesn't know how to handle it. He doesn't know how he should _feel_ about it. It just doesn't fit. 

"Bruce is an idealist." The way Thomas says it makes it sound like a bad thing. "In his world, every criminal can be reformed. In many cases, he's right. There are people here living perfectly ordinary lives that you'd think of as irredeemable criminals."

Slade is the obvious one, and apparently Thomas agrees, because he doesn't bother mentioning him.

"Poison Ivy is rehabilitating the part of Gotham that was abandoned by civilization. Riddler runs an arcade. Deadshot's retired and living with his family."

Khalid knows the _but_ is coming.

"But he thinks those are the sign of something larger. He thinks _everyone_ is like that, and it isn't true. The Elliot's were close friends of ours, years past. Their son tried to kill them, and when I saved his mother he became obsessed with our family—and with Bruce. The best care money can buy isn't going to bring back the people who are dead because of him, and even years of rehabilitation has only lead to them minimizing the damage he can do to others. He's far from the only one: Harvey Dent shoes minimal signs of improvement."

Khalid does what he can to follow along, but he's not sure where Thomas is going with it. Nothing Thomas has said is something he disagrees with, but he has a feeling that wherever Thomas is going, Khalid isn't going to like it.

"You were a hero back in your own world, right?"

Khalid nods, and Thomas doesn't wait for an explanation.

"Think about the worst person you ever fought. The most irredeemable."

Oh. Khalid's _sure_ Thomas didn't mean for things that way, but it's hard not to feel like he's ruining the point.

"Anubis."

Thomas nods, oblivious.

"Think about trying to redeem them. About how they'd do in jail. In a mental health facility, if they were that sort of person. Think—"

"No," Khalid says desperately. "It was— I mean, the person I first fought, the _big bad,_ was Anubis. The god."

Thomas stares at him blankly, trying to process what he just heard.

"The god," he repeats back.

"The god. Bast gave me the helmet—"

Thomas holds up a hand, and Khalid goes silent. Obviously he's thrown Thomas for a loop, but the old man is taking it in stride.

"Beside the point. The point is that Bruce thinks every criminal can be reformed, and they can't. Some can be reformed, some can be contained, and some will always be a constant risk just by their continued existence."

Wow. Alright. Khalid _really_ doesn't agree, but he nods anyway, trying to follow along.

"I went to jail because I put a bullet between Harley Quinn's eyes. I'm not going to pretend like I feel guilt for it, because I don't. She had years to reform. To show any sign of improvement. And instead, the first thing she did was try and traumatize someone who'd already been through far too much. Could I have stopped her non-lethally? Absolutely. But when push came to shove, I made absolutely sure she wasn't ever going to bother the people I care about again."

Oh. There's more to it, Khalid is sure, but the way Thomas lays it out is so... _matter of fact._

"And you... turned yourself in?" Khalid asks, praying he's right.

"I crossed the line. Batman and the others were allowed to operate in the city because they never took matters into their own hands. They didn't play judge, jury, _or_ executioner, and I'd played all three. So I had to go. I turned myself in right after. Did my time. I wasn't pardoned, but close enough in the end: they sent me home to be with my new grandkids."

Khalid oh so _desperately_ wants a timeline. How long was he in prison? How long has he been out? He has no idea, and it feels wrong to ask.

"The point is that I had my reasons for doing it. If you're going to take issue to what happened, then that's up to you. But I don't regret what I did."

Everything feels like it's spiraling out of control.

"No!" Khalid blurts, horrified by the idea that Thomas is just _shutting him out._ "It's not like that. I'm not... I'm not _against_ —" He stops, struggling to find the right word. Against criminals? Against people who have been to prison?

"You are, whether you're going to admit it. Doesn't matter to _me,_ but it will to others. Bruce is defensive over the fact that I ever went to prison. So you're going to want to get your head on straight—"

"No, I—" Khalid doesn't even know what to say. He doesn't know what he _could_ say. Thomas is, realistically speaking, at least partially right. He _did_ have an alarmed reaction to finding out. He _did_ have a hard time reconciling what he knew of Thomas and what he'd just learned.

So instead he goes silent. He can't bring himself to look at Thomas, not knowing how he's behaved. He feels ashamed, and he can't even decide if it's _right_ to feel ashamed. Thomas has been nothing but kind to him, and he...

"You took it better than most did, if I'm being honest," Thomas says, and Khalid's head snaps up, surprised. He doesn't feel like he handled it well at all, and it feels a lot like Thomas is just trying to soften the blow. "I know what the public thinks of felons. The moment someone's been in jail, it's a mark against them that won't go away. I don't care what people think of me, but..."

For the first time since the conversation started, Khalid actually _understands._

"But you didn't want anyone judging Law," he finishes for Thomas, and the older man pauses for just a moment and then nods.

"Lawrence is a good guy. He wouldn't harm a fly, but he's got things on his record that make it hard for him to do anything with his life. It'll be nearly impossible for him to get a job that isn't forcing him to live paycheck to paycheck. Gotham is better than most places, but it's still not _good."_

"You could probably help change that."

The look Thomas gives him makes Khalid regret having said anything at all.

"It's not that easy, you know."

"I _know_ it isn't easy," Khalid counters, defensive. "I— a friend of mine was really into social activism, so I know how hard it is." It hurts to think about, so he simply doesn't. "But if anyone had the ability to make a difference about that, it would be you. Bruce is... I mean, he's _obviously_ socially conscious. He cares about you a lot. I don't see why he wouldn't want to help with this."

Thomas doesn't reply right away. He seems to be thinking on it, his face set in obvious concentration as he works through the idea.

"It... probably is something I should talk to Bruce about," he finally says. "I'm sure he'd have some ideas. Might even have a good place to get me started."

They lapse into silence, and after a moment Thomas clears his throat.

"Why don't we head back. I think we've got enough shopping done for right now, and... I think we both have things to think about."

Khalid knows he does. Right then what he desperately needs is some silence. A chance to process everything he just learned on his own time. So when, as they leave, Thomas glances back towards him, his stomach drops.

"Khalid?"

Apparently Khalid's expectant (and probably nervous) look is enough of an answer.

"Don't tell Will we ate while we were out. He sulks if anyone eats other food without having to."


	12. Chapter 12

Thomas doesn't try and make him talk on the way back to the manor. Khalid is exhausted emotionally, and the desire to shut himself in a room— _any_ room—is nearly overpowering.

There's no one to greet them when they get back, to Khalid's intense surprise, and it isn't until they make it up to the ground floor, their arms loaded with shopping bags, that they see anyone at all.

"Oh!" Thad says. Khalid doesn't even see him coming. One minute there's no one there, and the next there's a vague blur that slams to a stop and turns out to be Thad. "You're back already. We weren't sure if you were going to be here until like... dinner."

"We're here," Thomas says. "Where's everyone?"

"Jon and his mom are here with his littlest brother, but Jason and Clark had to go deal with a thing in Metropolis."

A _thing._

"Trouble?" Thomas asks, and Thad shrugs exaggeratedly at him.

"Some bad guy was breathing fire or something like that, so Clark went to go punch him. You know how it is. We're all out back though."

Thomas grunts, which means he _does_ know how it is, and then he glances back to Khalid.

Khalid beats him to it.

"I think I'm going to go put this away and get some rest," he says quickly. "If that's alright?"

"Oh!" Thad says suddenly. "Dexter's in your room, now. Turns out the reason you haven't met Titus yet is because Dexter was bulling him yesterday."

Huh.

"Titus is... out back? ...And a dog?"

"You can meet him later," Thomas says with a shake of his head. "Go unpack. We'll see you around dinner."

Khalid's glad to go, even if it means stepping into a room with a no doubt furious cat waiting for him.

But despite his worries, he doesn't get mauled when he opens the bedroom door. Dexter is waiting patiently for him, perched on the pillows at the top of the bed, and offers an almost _polite_ meow in Khalid's direction.

"I hear you were bullying the dog," Khalid says, closing the door behind him. "You shouldn't do that, you know."

He gets another meow in return.

Putting things away isn't as hard as it should be. Everything he's bought is more or less already in order, and the room already comes with furniture he can use. He hands his new shirts and puts everything else in drawers. He's picked up a few odds and ends, which he stores in the room, and then, rather than going to check in on everyone else, he sprawls out on the bed and fishes his phone out.

It's already been set up at the store, and when he checks he finds an _unsecured_ wireless access point named WAYNE_MANOR. For a moment he's alarmed to find it lacking in security, but after a moment he realizes that having it secured is largely pointless. The manor is large, and the grounds even larger. If someone's close enough they can access the manor's wireless network, Bruce and the others have _much_ bigger things to deal with.

Khalid has never in his life been so happy for the internet. The internet has answers to all the stupid questions he doesn't want to embarrass himself by asking.

He starts with Batman. The fact that there's an entire _confirmed_ section about Batman's identity feels surreal, but he skips it—he already knows, after all—and goes straight for history.

Most of it lines up with what he knows. Bruce Wayne loses his parents, goes travelling around the world (training, apparently, although he didn't know that before), and returns to Gotham at it's worst. He creates the mantle to strike fear into the heart of criminals. He fights numerous villains. They're all familiar names, and familiar stories.

And then things start to deviate. The obvious one—and most confusing one—is almost ten years earlier, when part of Gotham was sectioned off and turned into a _prison._

The idea is impossible. It makes absolutely no sense. And yet unless the entire internet has conspired to lie to him, it's the truth.

And Bruce Wayne was thrown into it.

It defies belief. Khalid opens another tab and reads the whole thing; the whole absurd explanation for why an entire city thought it would be a good idea to make part of their city into something that makes _Mad Max_ look sensible.

When he's done, he hops back to the _Batman_ page and keeps reading.

And reading.

He only stops reading hours later when there's a knock at the door. Khalid's head pops up, and a quick check of the time confirms what he fears: it's _past_ dinner time, and whoever's knocking probably thinks he's dropped dead.

He scrambles off the bed, heading for the door. Dexter stays on the bed, watching him with apparent interest as Khalid jerks the door open.

Slade's waiting outside.

"Oh good, you're not dead."

Khalid flushes, taking a step back to let Slade in if he wants, but Slade doesn't enter, instead leaning against the door frame. Giving Khalid his space, probably. Khalid finds himself retreating, settling in at the edge of the bed as he looks up at Slade for... for something.

Insight?

"I was just reading."

"Thought you might be," Slade confirms, nodding towards the phone. "Helps keep people in the loop, but it's not the whole story. How far did you get?"

"There's a lot," Khalid admits. "I read... uh, your page and Bruce's page, and the Gotham City page. But I have a dozen tabs open that I need to get around too..."

"You could be here for days, but I'm not going to discourage that. You probably feel... out of the loop, and I can't blame you for it." Slade hesitates, and it's obvious to Khalid he wants to say something more. The emotions are warring on his face, and after a moment he simply lets out a little sigh.

"Not sure if it's the right thing to do, but pretty soon you're going to run into stuff about Jason, and about what happened to him. It's a... sensitive subject."

He's caught glimpses of it just from Bruce's article. Mentions of _presumed dead_ Jason Wilson-Wayne and something about him coming back and terrorizing the city. He doesn't really get it, but then he's only read a fraction of what's available. There's just so _much,_ and he can't help but feel like it would be easier if he was more familiar with his world's Gotham.

"Should I... not read it?"

"No," Slade says immediately, shaking his head. "That's not what I mean. I'm... not sure if it would be better for you to read it and keep in mind that it's sensitive, or if you should ask Jason. I'm not sure if it'd be better to get it out of the way, or..." He reaches up, scratching at the back of his scalp. "I'll leave it up to you."

"He's your son," Khalid says desperately, a nuclear bomb of a social situation dropped in his lap. "You don't... you're not sure which way would be... better?"

Slade gives the matter serious consideration. It's more than a full minute before he gives his answer.

"I think... Jason would appreciate being asked, even if he might say he'd rather you just read it. I think what matters is that you're willing to ask, even if it's a subject that's deeply unpleasant for him."

Khalid absolutely doesn't want to wade into a subject that Slade describes as _extremely unpleasant,_ but it also sounds a lot like he's going to find out whatever it is sooner rather than later. Picking how he learns about it might be for the better, even if the thought makes his mouth go dry.

"Alright," he says. "I'll... try and find time and ask him about it. Ask him if he wants to talk, or if I should just read."

"You're a good kid, Khalid," Slade says. "There's food in the kitchen—Will left some for you when we thought you were asleep. If you need anything... just yell, you'll find one of us quickly enough."

Khalid's dying of embarrassment that he missed the first (second, technically, but the first at the manor) dinner at the manor, but he consoles himself with the fact that Slade was at least nice about it as the other man excuses himself to go get his own work done. 


	13. Chapter 13

He doesn't want to do it, but he goes to do it anyway.

The food left for him in the kitchen is both still warm and absolutely delicious, and he's midway through eating when Will leans in the doorway, looking him over.

"Get enough to eat?"

Now that he's a bit more prepared for it, he has the time to actually look Will over in more detail. He has the exact same facial structure as Slade, and the same beard, but that's where the similarities end. Will's eyes are a bright green, and he looks a good twenty years young and a lot less haggard then Slade does. Slade looks like a _veteran_ who's seen things no person should ever see. Will looks like a fresh faced youth by comparison, and the knowledge that he's supposedly the same age as Slade is... something.

It's also the mannerisms, but in a way Khalid has a hard time articulating. At face value, Will seems more sociable and friendly. He's the kind of person who leans in, checking in on Khalid's food, and then chatting a bit, while Slade's more likely to give him space. But something about it makes Khalid feel that Slade is, in a weird way, more _genuine._

Maybe he just doesn't know Will well enough.

The rest of the family goes about their business as he eats. Most pop their head in to say hi when they spot him. Joey, lacking the metal band around his neck that allows him to speak, simply waves and moves along.

And then Jason arrives.

"Oh good," he says when he leans in the kitchen and sees Khalid eating at the breakfast nook. "Slade did find you."

"He did," Khalid confirms the moment his mouth is empty. His mood is sinking, but he knows that if he puts it off any longer, he's not going to do it.

So he does it, right then and there.

"I... actually wanted to talk to you at some point, if you're free." His tongue feels like lead. He can barely make himself say the words at all. What right does he have to pry into something so personal? So _painful?_

Apparently Jason isn't excited by the conversation either, because he seems to go a few degrees paler, the blood draining from his face.

"About?"

Khalid takes a moment to pull himself together before he makes himself respond. He's sure Jason already knows, or at the very least suspects, but he still needs to address it, and he absolutely doesn't want to. All he can do is cut to the heart of the matter as quickly as possible.

"I missed dinner because I was catching up on everything that's happened here. The history of the Bats, and everything like that. And there was some stuff about... about what happened to you." He debates for only a moment, unsure if he wants to throw Slade under the bus (is it even throwing him under the bus), before he decides he might as well. "Slade thought it might be better to ask."

Jason doesn't answer right away. He leans against the door frame just like Slade did earlier, considering what to say and how to say it. Maybe he's considering if he should answer at all. When he does speak, Khalid can't help but feel genuinely _surprised._

"Do you know what happened to the other J— to Jay?"

"In general terms. I didn't talk to him about it, but... well, everyone knew that Jason Todd died, and I can put two and two together."

He's not sure how Jay came back, but he's also not particularly sure it matters.

"Well, I didn't. Every world we've ever encountered, that world's Jason died, and then came back. That's what they thought happened here. I went after... after a villain, and got caught in an explosion. They thought I died, but really I'd just been captured. I spent..." It's clear from the pauses how painful it is to talk about for him. Every few words he has to pause, collecting himself before continuing. "I spent a long time being tortured until I was broken. Until he could use me as a weapon against Bruce. Even after the Joker died, I kept doing it anyway, and the only reason I came to my senses was because Slade realized what was happening was wrong."

Oh. To say the least, it's a _lot,_ and Khalid can only nod along, trying to follow as best he can.

"That's... the important stuff, I think. You can find more if you look it up, but..." Jason's eyes wander, never quite making eye contact. "Thanks for asking. Eventually you were going to hear the whole thing, and it doesn't feel as bad when I get to say it on my terms, rather than having someone... _assume."_

Khalid can't even imagine.

"If there's anything I can do—"

Jason waves him off.

"I'm fine. I'm in a good place, I've got a great boyfriend, and I have more parental figures and family members then any one person should have. _You're_ the one who needs people willing to check in on them, so... if you need anything, you call _me."_

Khalid's taken aback, blinking for a few confused moments before offering a nod.

"I mean it, Khalid. None of us are expecting you to get through this alone. I didn't. Joey didn't. Hell, even Will didn't. So if you need anything, no matter how small or minor or inconsequential... Let us know."

He nods, but that's not enough.

"Say you will?"

Khalid grumbles a bit.

"I will," he confirms. "If I need anything, I'll ask."

Jason grins at him, and Khalid lets out a small sigh. He can't help feel like he just got played, but at the very least things went better with Jason then he feared they would.

It's a small mercy.


	14. Chapter 14

Dexter won't leave him alone that night, but everyone else seems perfectly willing to give him space. Whether they've heard he's talked with Jason or for other reasons, no one bothers him when he retires back to the guest room— _his_ room, he supposes—for the night.

He curls under the covers in fresh new pajamas, reading through the ever-growing backlog of articles, and slips off to sleep relatively easily.

Breakfast is much the same as they day before. Will's cooked (the eggs are just as good as the waffles were), and he waves off Khalid's offer to help with the dishes.

"Thad's on dish duty," he explains, and Khalid shortly sees why. Thad moved so fast the day before he didn't' even register what was happening, but the moment everyone's dropped off their plates, Thad simply zips through, the plates are gone, and the dishwasher starts running.

"Efficient," Will says with a proud smile, reaching down to ruffle Thad's hair before sending him off to do something else.

There's more work (and school) to be done, so Khalid's expecting a slow day. Instead, Bruce slides up to him as everyone goes their separate ways with a task.

"I was hoping you could keep an eye outside," he suggests, "maybe sit on the balcony while you read? Hal said someone would be coming by, and— Hal is the—"

"Green Lantern," Khalid confirms. "Is something happening that requires Lantern attention...?" He knows more than enough about the Lanterns to know that would be _bad._ Another day he might be able to handle that, but right then he'd just like at least one solid month without a crisis.

"Oh no, not at all. We asked them to check in with the Guardians about— well, about Apokolips. The only knowledge we have of it is from other dimensions, and it doesn't appear in any of our records. We wanted to get ahead of things if necessary."

Khalid nods. It's an undeniably good idea, but the idea of it—of something like _that_ happening here—makes his stomach churn.

"I'll read outside," he says. "I still have some to go through, so I'll keep myself occupied."

There's a set of chairs up on the balcony when Khalid goes out, leaving an irate Dexter trapped inside.

Reading off his phone in the sun is less than ideal, but he makes do. He reasons it's probably good for him to get some sunlight after so long under the helmet, and he does feel better once he's had some time in the sun. When it gets too warm, he moves into the shade, taking a moment to check the area for any wayward Green Lanterns as he does.

He doesn't spot and Lanterns, but he does realize he's not the only one outside. Surveying the grounds, he spots Thomas off by the back of the grounds. There's a gazebo there, but it's too far away to see much: he only recognizes that it's Thomas by the color of his shirt, but Khalid thinks he might be reading by the way he sits.

It isn't his business though, so he goes back to his reading.

Alfred delivers a quick lunch (sandwiches), and Khalid spends most of the afternoon just resting. It feels good to rest, to not be stressing about anything, and learning about the world, he reminds himself, is useful. He's contributing, in his own way, or at least _preparing_ to contribute, which absolutely counts.

It's sometime after two in the afternoon when the hairs on the back of Khalid's neck stand up. It's not as if there's anything _wrong,_ or even any way he could know, but his sixth sense—the very thing that's kept him alive as long as it has—tells him to look up.

There's a speck of green far up in the sky, and Khalid gets to his feet as he stares up at it. The dot doesn't make directly for him, and if he's gauging it right, they're doing literal loop-de-loops in the air on the way down.

Even messing around, Lantern's fly _fast,_ and the one up in the sky comes to a stop maybe ten feet away from Khalid, up a bit and floating in the air.

Khalid misses flying.

"You aren't one of the Wayne kids!" The Lantern protests.

"And you're not Hal Jordan."

Hal Jordan's the only Lantern with a full page to themselves, and while the photo on it isn't the best, there's no mistaking the man in front of him for Jordan. The man in front of him has red hair cut fairly short, and his uniform is completely different, looking, in Khalid's opinion, a lot less professional. The guy looks more like he should be in a seventies street gang than an intergalactic police force.

"'Course not," the Lantern says, tapping his chest with his thumb. "Guy Gardner. Ol' Hal's sent me to report back to you guys since he's busy."

Guy Gardner. Khalid thinks the name sounds familiar, but not enough to know anything for sure. Did someone else mention him before, or had he heard the name in his own world?

"And you are....?" The Lantern says. He's tapping his foot, only he's floating in the air so there's nothing to tap it against.

"Khalid Nassour. I'm a guest of the Wayne-Wilson's." When Guy squints at him, Khalid expands without further prompting. "I'm one of the ones from the other dimension."

"Ah, Hal mentioned that. Said it wasn't a big deal, so we could keep doing our thing, but it seemed like a pretty big deal to me. I mean... we've had contact with... what, one other world? Two with you guys? But you know Hal."

He lets out a weary sigh, shaking his head, and only once he notices that Khalid is staring blankly at him does he realize that no, Khalid _doesn't_ know Hal.

"He's got a stick up his ass is what I'm saying. Either way, where's the big ol' bat?"

Khalid actually doesn't know where Bruce is, but he's not going to let that stop him.

"With the babies, I think? Or he might be in his office. I can go get him if you want to wait."

"And miss a chance to see inside Wayne Manor? Hell no."

Guy isn't a bad person, but he's also very much not Khalid's kind of person. He's loud, nosy, and about as far from Khalid himself as it's possible to be. The only relief is that they find Bruce fairly easily, bouncing Matt (or maybe Terry, but the little birds on the blanket wrapped around the baby says probably Matt) in his arms on the ground floor.

"Oh, Guy!" Bruce says, obviously trying to keep Matt quiet, who keeps fidgeting. "Hal sent you? Did he get our message?"

"Sure did. Sent me down to report, since there isn't much to report."

Bruce's eyebrow goes up.

"By which you mean..."

"There's no such place. Lantern's checked out the coordinates you gave us, but there's no planet there. If a planet ever existed there, it was before the Guardian's had records."

Bruce looks to Khalid. His feelings are mixed, and he's sure that it shows on his face, but overall he decides it's a good thing. No Apokolips means absolutely no chance of this world falling like his own.

"It's a difference between the worlds, I guess. It explains some of the things we've noticed," Khalid opts to point out since Bruce is so pointedly looking at him for insight. "The differences in how the League was formed, for one."

"Well, don't really know what you're talking about, but that's all I had to share," Guy says, throwing his hands up. "I'll be going unless you're going to let me take a dip in that nice hot tub you've got up there."

Bruce frowns, and Guy lets out a laugh, lifting off the ground. Khalid tips his head back, spotting Era watching them from the second floor, and when Guy lifts off, heading towards the balcony, he has to zip around Era himself. It's an almost playful gesture, but Era doesn't reciprocate.

"That was...?" Khalid asks, looking to Bruce. Even though Guy introduced himself, he's sure he's missing something.

"The second wave of Green Lanterns. Traditionally, each sector only had one. In response to... some issues, the Guardian's expanded. They knew that Guy Gardner and John Stewart would be the second and third Green Lantern's from Earth, so Hal approached them early. I want to say that it's gone to his head, but it seems more like he's always been like this."

"I didn't really work with the Lanterns, so I can't say much about him. He seems... nice," Khalid offers, unsure of what else he could even say about the man.

Matt lets out a hiccup, and Bruce turns his attention back to his son.

"Thanks for bringing him down, Khalid. It's nice having someone around to help with this sort of thing. With so many people in the house, you'd think we have it handled, but..." His eyes drift down to the baby in his arms, and Khalid offers him a smile.

"It's not a problem. I'm going to check out the library a bit more, if that's alright with you...?" His phone desperately needs to charge, and he's been meaning to take another look anyway.

"Of course. If you see anything you want, feel free to take it back to your room."

Khalid's happy to do just that.


	15. Chapter 15

Living with the Wayne-Wilson's is an experience, and one Khalid adapts to quickly enough. There's a schedule, but it changes so regularly that there's almost no point of keeping track of it. There's work and school and plenty of other activities that come into play. Once a week (but sometimes more often), Thad heads over to the Kent house to teach then Kryptonian. Joey has work during the week, and goes to church on the weekend with Thomas. Khalid ends up making notes in an attempt to keep the schedule organized in his head, but it's easier said than done.

He keeps himself busy as much as possible. When he's read through all the explanations he can find, he focuses on ASL. Joey _can_ use Kryptonian technology to verbally speak, but it's clear to Khalid that he prefers not to, and he feels bad that Joey has to keep it handy because he doesn't speak ASL.

He's been there a week exactly when Bruce _and_ Slade sit him down in what is undeniably supposed to be a serious discussion. Khalid doesn't know what they want, but he's sure he's not going to like it. The fact that it's taking place in Bruce's office with the door closed only convinces him that much more that whatever they want, it isn't good.

"You've been here a week," Bruce starts, his tone carefully even, "and we wanted to talk to you about long term prospects."

Khalid doesn't have any long term prospects. He's given it very little thought because he knows that's simply the truth. Everything he had planned is out of reach. Everything he worked for is dust.

He keeps his face as blank as he can, trying not to react.

"And before we say anything else, I wanted to make it clear you're welcome to stay here," Slade says, frowning at Bruce. He probably wanted to start with that, only apparently Bruce disagrees.

"You are," Bruce confirms, "but we wanted to be sure you knew the options you had. Most of the other new arrivals will be staying where you left them, but some are finding homes with their... alternate universe selves. Some of them were orphans to begin with and prefer to stay with Slade-D and the others, but—"

Khalid can't bare to let Bruce finish talking.

"I understand what you're going for, Mr.— Bruce, but I don't want to interfere. The other Khalid is... he's probably happy with his family. He's got his whole life ahead of him, and I don't want to ruin that."

Bruce and Slade's expressions are painfully easy to read. They _both_ don't understand why he said it, and he hates the idea of having to explain.

"Right now it's just me," Khalid says before they can ask. "It's me, and I can adjust. But if this world doesn't have magic, then he... he's still on the original path. He's still going to school. My life was derailed when I was given the helmet, but his wasn't. I don't want to throw that away for him. And..." It hurts. It hurts just to think about, let alone to say it, but he makes himself say it anyway. "And they aren't my family. They aren't my parents. They might look like them and act like them, but they _aren't_ them, and I... I think it would just make it worse."

He can't imagine how much it would hurt to be looking at them. To see his parents faces every day, all while knowing that his _real_ parents are gone: dead and left behind, just like everyone else he ever knew.

"It's your decision," Slade says after a moment. "I felt the same way at first—I wasn't sure what to make of Joey. Will—"

"He understands," Bruce says quietly. "But it is his decision." He puts an end to Slade's seemingly unintentional attempt to convince Khalid to change his mind, and then turns his attention back to Khalid himself. "I know this is early for you, but I can only imagine you're starting to adjust to... well, how things work here. I can also only imagine that you're starting to get bored. If you're anything like me, you're probably trying to stay busy."

Guilty as charged, but Khalid doesn't know how to respond. Slade _and_ Bruce are looking at him expectantly, but there's nothing to say.

He doesn't have any options. He's not sure what they want from him: to pick a new job, a new career? To start all over?

"I... don't know what I'd do," he finally says.

"Well, we can do suggestions," Slade says, leaning back in his chair in a way that's almost _painfully_ leisurely. "Or you can opt to do nothing. If you wanna just hang out here, that's fine too."

"Not everyone's happy with that," Bruce points out with a shake of his head. It's clear to Khalid that while Slade might be happy to hang around at home, Bruce is the sort of person who'd go crazy if he wasn't doing something constantly.

"Why don't we just do the basics," Slade continues, completely ignoring his husband's comment. "What were you doing ebfore all the fate stuff?"

"I was in school." Khalid doesn't see any pointing in hiding it. It's not as if it's a secret.

"For? Helping people get back to where they should be as far as the education system goes is something we've done before."

Khalid doesn't doubt they've helped others, but helping _him_ is something much more complicated. There's only a hundred and six openings a year for his program, and it's not as easy as _adding another seat._ It's not like asking a community college to consider his application: Khalid has no official records for any of his grades, test scores, or academics at all. He doesn't even have an official _high school diploma,_ and no medical school is going to take that kind of risk, even if _Bruce Wayne_ is the one asking.

Bruce Wayne has a great deal of pull, but he doesn't have that much.

"Medicine."

Apparently there's something important about that, because Bruce's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Slade doesn't have the same level of reaction, but he does suddenly look _focused._

"You were training to become a doctor?" Slade asks as Bruce gets to his feet, waving the two of them off.

"I'm going to go grab Thomas. He'd be the expert," he says quickly, leaving them behind as Khalid turns to Slade, shooting him a confused look.

"Thomas was a surgeon," Slade elaborates.

It's news to Khalid. He read all the information that was publicly released on Thomas, but it was mostly focused on his actions since arrival. There was precious little information about his circumstances before arrival, and what there _was_ was so brief was it was nearly useless. 

"I didn't know that. I thought he was a..." Khalid pauses, trying to find a word that feels less insulting than _socialite._ As far as he knew, Thomas Wayne was a man whose sole job was to be rich. "A businessman."

"He was a surgeon first. From what I know, he retired from the position to be able to spend more time with his family after Bruce was born," Slade explains, and then offers a shrug. "I don't know that much about it. Bruce would be the expert. Even if this Thomas isn't his— well, you know."

He does know, and Khalid is happy enough to wait for Thomas to show up, even if he's not entirely sure why. Realistically, it shouldn't make a difference that Thomas was a surgeon, but it feels like it _does._ Like Thomas, more than anyone, will understand why it's not as easy as just _going back to school._

Apparently Thomas feels similarly, because when he arrives with Bruce he seems more animated then Khalid is used to seeing him.

"How did this not come up?" is the first thing he asks, and Slade rolls his eyes, leaning even farther back in his chair and apparently unimpressed. 

"We knew he was a student, but we didn't ask for details. We wanted to let him get settled in." Slade is _definitely_ not impressed with Thomas, and Khalid's impression is that he's only playing along for Bruce's sake. Thomas simply ignores him, focusing on Khalid.

"Pre-med?"

"I was doing my MD."

"Where did you finish pre-med, then?"

The entire conversation is rapid-fire, and that makes it easier to just say it all at once.

"Brooklyn College."

"Grades?"

"Summa cum laude."

"MCAT score?"

"524."

Thomas has to pause there, probably mentally converting it between scoring systems.

"What's that under the old system?"

All of a sudden it's Khalid's turn to mentally tally things up.

"Forty."

Thomas doesn't comment on his score, simply moving on with the conversation.

"Notable extra-curriculars?"

It really does feel like he's being interviewed, and Khalid finds he's sitting up a bit straighter as a result.

"I worked as an EMT while interning. Having both, combined with my grades and letters of recommendation were enough to get me in."

"Where were you in your studies when you got interrupted?"

"Going into final exams for my first year at Weill Cornell."

"Does someone want to translate for those of us who _aren't_ surgeons?" Slade grumbles, and Bruce reaches down, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"In short, he was attending an excellent school to become a world class doctor," Thomas says, and Khalid's sure that even his _ears_ go bright red with embarrassment. "Which would also explain why he's in no hurry to go back. Getting in is nearly impossible, and the good word of a few Justice League members isn't going to get him back in."

"So he doesn't _actually_ have any options?" Bruce asks, looking genuinely horrified by the idea.

"More importantly, do we know if he even _wants_ to go back?" Slade asks.

Everyone turns to him, and Khalid wishes they wouldn't. He knows what they're asking, and he hates that he has to say it at all.

"I... it's not even an option. I—"

"If it was," Slade says simply.

It feels like a stone hung around his neck, weighing him down. Why even think about it? Why even reply when he knows there's no chance? But he makes himself open his mouth to answer, makes himself _speak._

"If I could, I would," he finally says. "I... I spent a long time preparing for that, and it... I wish I could."

He wishes he didn't have to give it up.

"We'll figure it out," Bruce says. "Even if it's not easy, we'll work out _something."_

Khalid wants to believe them. He knows they mean well. He knows they'll try. He just thinks they're underestimating how hard it will be. How _impossible_ it will be.

"I'm going to check on the kids," Slade says, getting to his feet. "Will's watching them, but someone needs to watch _him."_

"I'll make some calls," Bruce says, shooting Khalid a too-hopeful smile. "I'll let you know if I hear anything."

He excuses himself as well, and entirely without meaning to, Khalid finds himself alone with Thomas.

Thomas's expression is hard to read. _Focused,_ maybe. He's certainly scrutinizing Khalid, looking at him with fresh eyes.

"Seems like I misjudged you," Thomas says after a moment. "A doctor... did you have a specialty in mind?"

Khalid's well aware that there's no way for him to answer without looking like he's sucking up, but he's not going to lie to him either.

"After talking with my advisor, we decided that trauma surgery would fit what I was looking for, considering my experience as an EMT."

Thomas practically _glows_ with pride. Even though he has no reason to be, he seems genuinely happy to discover Khalid's original career path.

Even if it doesn't lead to anything—even if he never gets a chance to go back to school or actually get to do the job he spent years preparing for—he can't help but feel that it being out in the open might do some good anyway.


	16. Chapter 16

Despite the fact that Khalid doesn't tell anyone else about his chosen profession, within two hours everyone in the house seems to know. Will, it turns out, is a nurse, a fact that Khalid learns not just from him, but also from Joey, Damian, and then Bruce.

Khalid doesn't think it really makes much of a difference, but it's clear to him that everyone else is absolutely under the impression that it should. Like he should somehow bond with Will by virtue of having similar chosen professions, only as far as he can tell Will never actually practiced, and doesn't plan to in the future, either.

When Bruce says he has an announcement to make over dinner, Khalid's stomach drops. He's already gotten too much attention, and the less focus on him, the better.

So it's a pleasant surprise when Bruce's announcement has absolutely nothing to do with him.

"We've talked about it before, but I think it's well past time we start signing everything," Bruce announces. Thomas grunts, earning himself an irritated look, but it's clear from Bruce's demeanor that he's serious about.

"What... exactly does that entail?" Khalid asks carefully, not sure what they're talking about. From everyone's reaction, this isn't a new announcement: everyone seems to know what Bruce is talking about, and Khalid's left in the dark.

"Apparently babies can pick up sign faster than they can learn to actually talk," Thad says. He's eating even as he explains, and yet he's never talking with his mouth full. "So if you sign while you talk, Matt and Terry will learn to sign back, and then they can talk to us sooner."

"That's the idea, anyway," Bruce says. "We talked about starting before, but decided to wait until the boys were a bit more settled before we stressed about it. It's... well, just a matter of reminding yourself to sign if you have your hands free."

Oh. Well, that seems simple enough, and even if no one's brought it up, it's obvious that it'll help _him,_ too. He's the one still learning, still trying to memorize hundreds of signs just to be able to function day to day. Having a chance to practice in such a low stakes way is undeniably ideal.

"I don't think I'm anywhere close to up to standard, but I'll do what I can," he promises, and Bruce shoots him a winning smile, the kind that _Bruce Wayne,_ the man who was practically king of Gotham always used to make.

Which feels like a painful stab: that Bruce Wayne, the one Khalid grew up seeing on TV, whose entire persona he's judging _this_ Bruce on is gone.

Dead and buried like so many others.

He keeps his reaction off his face, and no one notices as the conversation move on.

It's not as easy as just saying _we'll all sign,_ though. The rest of the evening is a constant stop-and-start of people starting to talk, realizing they're supposed to sign, and then restarting with the proper signs. Khalid's hoping it'll even out the following morning, but breakfast is much the same: a lot of stopping and starting that disrupts any sort of conversation.

It's a relief when he gets a chance to get out of the house.

"I was going to stop by the shelter where the others from your world are staying," Bruce offers as breakfast winds down. "I thought you might want to come with."

Khalid has no particular connection to the people he left at the shelter. Most of them are strangers to him, or at best weak acquaintances. But he likes the idea of getting out of the house and _doing_ something, so he's happy to agree.

"Sure. Are you doing anything in particular, or...?"

"Oh no, just checking in," Bruce says. "I'll meet you at the car?"

It's just the two of them, which lets Khalid relax that much more. He doesn't mind the family as a group, but realistically speaking it's a hell of a lot easier for him to handle things one on one, no matter who he's with. Bruce doesn't feel like family, but at the same time he doesn't feel too far off a friendly school advisor, either.

It's familiar, and that makes it easy enough to go along with.

The shelter is much the same as Khalid remembers it, only a great deal more organized. Now that they know they're not going to be ousted at a moment's notice, those living there have started to settle in, and the change is obvious. The building was relatively spartan when Khalid was last there, intended to handle a constant and ever-changing group of people. Now it's impossible to not understand that people live there: there are decorations on the walls, largely handmade and obviously carefully chosen. Someone's hung a photo of the group, both adults and kids, a constant reminder of who arrived. 

Of those who survived.

They start down the hallway towards the living area when two children—probably not older than fourteen—step out of the shadows, blocking their way. They don't have weapons, but the way they hold themselves implied that they probably should. Like they're used to being guards.

"You have to check in," one says simply, and Khalid looks to Bruce, who offers a shrug. The other points them to an office, and then off they go, back towards the office.

Khalid only recognizes the man in very general terms: he doesn't think he's exchanged more than a dozen words with Deadshot before, but it's him whose taken up residence in the office, his feet kicked up on the desk as he works his way through what looks like a book of crosswords.

"Morning Wayne," Lawton says without even looking up. "Was wondering when you were going to drop by."

"Wayne-Wilson," Bruce corrects, and Lawton _hmmms_ pointedly in response. Khalid can't help but feel that he acts a lot like Slade, to the point where he wouldn't be surprised if the two got along. "I thought I should check in and see how everyone's doing."

"Decent enough. They've pulled a bunch of substitute teachers in to try and organize some sort of a class structure, only everyone's different ages and knowledge levels." Lawton sets his book aside, getting to his feet and rolling his shoulders as he stretches out. "They're doing _state of the world_ classes twice a week to get everyone up to speed and focusing on making sure everyone's healthy. Actual _schooling_ isn't going to start 'till summer's over."

Khalid thinks it's a sensible choice, all things considered. It gives the children who've come through months to adjust before throwing them into the thick of things. It lets them figure out what they want to _do._

"And everyone else?" Bruce prompts as they leave the office, starting down the hall towards the living quarters. This time, the 'guards' don't stop them, letting them pass without issue.

"Adjusting. The me from this dimension came a few days ago. Seemed like a nice enough guy, showed me pictures of his daughter. Not everyone is so enthusiastic to meet themselves, though. James talks about it a lot, but somehow he never ends up inviting anyone over. Lots of nerves."

"Who are we talking about?" Bane asks, leaning into the hallway from a side room. He looks relaxed, but his attitude shifts to one of obvious concern when he sees Bruce. "Everything is in order...?"

"He's just checking in," Lawton says with a wave of his hand. "Don't need to stress about it."

"I will always stress when the Batman comes to check in on us," Bane says simply. Khalid has to admit he has a point: even if Bruce is retired _here,_ he's not exactly a friendly figure to many of the adults there. Slade, Khalid decides, would probably be a more neutral choice.

"I'm just here making sure you have everything you need," Bruce says, his attempt to be reassuring almost painfully transparent. "Your situation here is... unorthodox, and it wouldn't surprise me if something important was overlooked."

"We handle ourselves," Lawton says simply. "If you all abandoned us right here and now, we'd still make do."

"They are all survivors," Bane says solemnly, and it's clear to Khalid that he's talking about the _kids,_ not just the handful of supervillains and other adults.

"What the _hell!"_ Comes a voice, and Khalid turns to find Jason— _Jay_ —coming down the hall towards them. He's got the early start of a beard going in a style that reminds Khalid a whole lot of Slade-D. Really, he's thankful for it: Jay's facial hair means it's that much harder for his brain to mix the two Jason's up. "Why didn't anyone tell me they were here?"

"They only just got here," Lawton says with a roll of his eyes. "I was literally walking them down to tell everyone they were here."

 _They,_ Khalid realizes. Not just Bruce, but him as well. It feels jarring considering how little Khalid knows them, but it's a strangely pleasant feeling just the same.

Someone knows he exists. He counts, apparently.

"Well I'll take them off your hands," Jay says to Lawton, shooing him away. "You've still got office duty after that stunt you pulled."

"Don't I know it."

Lawton doesn't even say goodbye, turning on his heel and heading back towards the front as Jay turns towards them, a wide grin on his face.

"Welcome back, Khalid. Just visiting?"

"Just visiting."

The thought that they might think he was there to stay hadn't crossed his mind until that point, and he's happy to deny it. Wayne Manor isn't home, but he's comfortable there at the very least.

"Well, come on then and see what we've got set up," Jay says, turning away as he waves for them to follow, leading them further into the building.


	17. Chapter 17

The farther in they go, the more apparent it is that the building is slowly being converted. Really, Khalid doubts it'll ever go back to just being a homeless shelter. That would mean everyone living there had been relocated, and by that point he's sure it'd be easier to just build a new structure anyway.

Somehow—probably with a considerable amount of super strength—several doorways have been expanded out, allowing for even someone the size of Grundy to pass easily. It makes the whole building feel a lot less like a series of hallways, more open concept and less enclosed. Khalid imagines that they'd done something similar at the orphanage where they first took shelter together, but Bruce seems low-key horrified by how extensive the changes already are.

"Don't mind it," Jay says, apparently unconcerned by Bruce's reaction. There are kids all over the place, coming and going. Lots of them stop to gawk at him, but _most_ stop to gawk at Bruce, apparently familiar enough with his appearance to know who Bruce Wayne is. Bruce is apparently used to being gawked at, because he simply ignores them all, his attention completely on Jay.

"Everyone doing alright?"

"Of course," Jay replies over his shoulder. "If it wasn't, we'd have hollered. Buildings nice. Everyone's settling in. The kids are getting some schooling—"

"Lawton mentioned. Catching them up to date, then getting them into school in the fall?"

Jay nods, pulling open a side door and leading them out into the back.

If the indoors was modified, the outdoor area is downright _recreated._ There's a large wooden structure that's been built along one wall, an overhand that provides shelter and shade. Part of the grass has been ripped up to make room for what looks like a community garden, and while there was never a ton of _yard_ it's clear the occupants are intending to make the most of it. Really, Khalid thinks it's a shame they don't have more space, because he doesn't think a small park would be unwelcome for the kids.

Something furry and below eye level shoots out from behind the building, and Khalid barely has time to register the word _dog_ before a large brown German Shepard collides with Bruce's legs, nearly knocking him over.

"Woah, Ace!" Jay says desperately, bending down to catch the dog by his collar as he pulls him back to give Bruce some space. "Sorry about that, he just gets overexcited."

"It's alright," Bruce says, squatting down and opening his arms. Jay releases Ace, and the dog steps forward more tentatively, sniffing at Bruce a bit before wagging his tail and starting to lick at Bruce's face.

Just a dog, happy to see his master again.

Bruce scratches behind Ace's ears, earning himself plenty of appreciative noises, and Jay slowly allows himself to relax, apparently confident that everything's alright.

"You guys missed Zatanna by a day," Jay says, drawing Khalid's attention.

"She was here?"

He's not sure how he really feels about the other mages. John Constantine vanished, but in theory the others are still around, whether living down in Peru or elsewhere in Gotham. A part of him feels like he should be seeking them out simply from shared experiences, but another part of him doesn't even want to entertain the thought.

"Wanted to check up on us. Apparently she's settling in well with her doppelganger. Built it right into the show, and people think they're twins. She left her contact info and promised to stay in touch."

"I should get that from you," Bruce says, straightening up as Ace settles in on his feet. "Just in case."

"I'll grab it for you before you go," Jay promises. "Before you ask, Rose is out with Grace picking some stuff up."

"I wasn't going to ask."

"You were thinking about it."

Khalid's pretty sure Bruce _was,_ but he's not about to weigh in. Jay and Bruce banter back and forth like family, and he doesn't want to get in the middle of that.

Jay, however, has other plans.

"What about you, Khalid? How've you been adjusting? How's the manor?"

"Very different from the Wayne Manor I was familiar with. Things are nice there though, and the Wayne-Wilsons have been very accommodating."

"I wouldn't expect anything less. Everyone's doing alright?"

Khalid nods. He doesn't think he's an expert at the family or anything, but it does seem like everyone's doing just fine.

"Anything interesting come up here...?" He asks after a moment, more to keep the conversation going then because he actually expects something important to have happened.

He is, of course, completely wrong.

"Oh boy," Jay says with a low whistle. _"Tons_ has been going on. Some of the kids were hoarding food and we had to deal with that, everyone's obsessed with doppelwatching, and I damn near walked in on Slade in a state I did _not_ want to see him in—"

"Slade?" Bruce says.

"Doppelwatching?" Khalid says at nearly the same time.

Jay lets out a laugh.

"Slade-D, sorry. We just call him Slade unless one of you are around. Doppelwatching is just... well, the kids are _really_ into keeping up with what our counterparts are doing. So Jason's popular, this world's Bane, Gordon... Anyone they can locate. They're twisting themselves up in knots trying to find everyone, only Cheetah won't give her real name, Creeper might not _have_ a real name, and everyone else is so low profile they're not in the spotlight."

"Rewind," Bruce says. "Slade-D was doing what?"

Jay wiggles his eyebrows.

"Shiva."

"He was—"

Bruce makes a choked noise, his face going red. He's silent for a moment, taking it in, and then just shakes his head.

"I suppose it makes sense," he admits. "Slade— _any_ Slade, that is—always had the same taste in people."

"Someone who can kick his ass," Jay agrees. "Apparently the two of them are _a thing_ and we had to have a whole big adult meeting to figure out if they were going to tell the kids or not."

"And?" Khalid asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Wouldn't be talking about it if they didn't know. Someone's always listening."

He nods his head to the side, and Khalid turns his head just fast enough to see someone pull back behind the corner. One of the kids, probably, and Jay doesn't seem worried. Really, he doesn't seem to be paying much attention at _all_ to the people coming and going around them. Out of the corner of his eye he notes that Grundy is settled on the far part of the outside area, apparently asleep (or at least not moving) as some of the younger kids use him as a jungle gym.

"It works out," Jay continues. "He and Shiva are pretty much the _parents_ of the group. Gordon's the grandpa, Lawtons the cool uncle, Creeper's the weird uncle, Cheetah's the nice aunt..."

"You're the big brother?" Khalid suggests, and Jay grins.

"Cass and I are the big siblings."

"Cass is—" Bruce starts, but Khalid cuts him off.

"Shiva's daughter. I know that much, at least."

"Cass and I were always like family," Jay explains, "this just... well, makes it more official, assuming Slade and Shiva don't implode as they're likely to do."

Khalid certainly wouldn't bet any money on the two of them staying together in the long run.

"And everyone else...?" Bruce asks, glancing around.

"Around," Jay says. "No one's going wandering off into the city, if that's what you're worried about. The kids are still adjusting, so as much as possible it's just about helping them become comfortable staying here."

Khalid can understand that. He'd be doing the same thing in their position, and right then there's not much he can do to help.

Or maybe there is?

"If you need any help, you can always let me know," Khalid offers. He's a stranger to them in many ways, but they're still from the same world. More than anyone else, he knows what they've been through. He understands what they saw, what they experienced.

"I don't think we should need any more help, but if I need anything, I'll give you a call, Khalid."

Despite his expectations that he'd be put to work when they arrived, there's not really anything for him or Bruce _too_ do. They make themselves available, and when Grace returns she makes sure to pull Bruce aside to chat about funding, leaving Khalid alone in the hall.

Or at least mostly alone. Khalid assumed Jay would excuse himself with Bruce gone, but instead he lingers, digging into his pockets and offering a piece of paper to Khalid.

"Zatanna asked after you," he explains simply. "I told her we'd give you her number, if you've got free time or anything."

It's clearly an _option._ If Khalid doesn't want to call, he doesn't have to, but he reaches out, accepting the paper anyway. It's just a number, so he tucks it away for later, his stomach churning at the thought.

He's not sure why it matters to him. It shouldn't: Zatanna is someone he barely knows. She's not family, and she's barely even a friend, but the thought of dealing with her makes him feel ill.

He's barely even aware when Jay excuses himself, leaving Khalid _actually_ alone, and he only comes back to his senses when Bruce emerges from the office, no doubt having been fleeced for a great deal of money to keep the building running and the occupants fed

"Khalid?"

His head snaps up to find Bruce staring at him, his expression pinched with worry.

"Everything alright?"

The number in his pocket feels like it's burning him, and he quickly unclenches his fists.

"Fine. Did you get everything done?"

"Grace drives a hard bargain," Bruce says with a weary sigh. "I get to come back in a few days, but at least for now I'm done. Shall we head home?"

Khalid can only nod, eager to be away from the place that stirs up such unpleasant feelings.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay on this. I made a [meta post](https://hotdadslade.tumblr.com/post/623232181615099906/some-thanks-and-whats-next) about my upcoming plans, but the relevant TL;DR is that you should see more consistent updates moving forward now that I've finished a bunch of big projects.

No matter what he does, Khalid can't forget the note with Zatanna's contact info. Every morning he wars with himself over what to do with it. He debates destroying it. Leaving it on his desk. Tucking it away inside the still and silent helmet that sits on his desk.

Every morning, without fail, he puts it right back in his pants pocket, constantly ready to go.

Self-reflection does nothing. Spending any sort of time thinking about it—or his reaction to it—leaves him feeling frustrated and upset. There are a lot of components all coming together at once, and encapsulating it in just _one_ problem is wrong.

It's the fact that it connects to magic, something he thought he hated before it was ripped away from him. It's the fact that Zatanna knew his great uncle before his passing. It's the fact that she left so quickly, starting a new life with apparent ease.

It's all that and more.

He tries not to think about it, even with the note burning a hole in his pocket. He focuses on studying, and keeps himself busy as much as possible. He works on his ASL. He even dips a bit into MCAT prep guides, just to see if they're the same as his old world (they are).

Anything to avoid thinking about it.

More than anything else, he tries to fill his time by being helpful. There's always something to do around the house, and it feels like everyone is happy for the assistance. The babies need watching, there's housework to be done, and since Khalid can at least manage to cook without poisoning himself, Will often drafts him into some food prep.

"Can I get you to go let everyone know that dinner's ready?" Will asks late one evening when Khalid's done chopping vegetables. The food's nearly done, and while normally grabbing people is Thad's job, he's not around right then, leaving the task to Khalid himself.

Most are easy to find. Jason's in the library, while Thad and Damian are out back with the Kent boys. Bruce is up in his office with Joey and the boys, and Alfred and Slade are down on the ground floor chatting about something or other.

Era is the same place he always is and easy enough to flag down, but for the life of him Khalid can't figure out where Thomas is. He knocks at his bedroom door and gets no response, and none of the public areas show any sign of him either. It's not until he literally cranes his neck out the window to check the grounds that he spots Thomas right in the first place Khalid should have looked: the gazebo.

The gazebo is where Thomas _always_ is, and Khalid's kicking himself for not checking there first. He doubles back down to the ground floor, heading out across the lawn towards the gazebo as the sun starts to dip.

It's only once he gets there that Khalid realizes something else that should have been obvious: he's never actually _been_ to the gazebo before. He never had a reason to, even if it's a gorgeous little structure. It just always felt like it was Thomas's _space,_ and the closer he gets the more present that feeling is.

"Thomas?" He calls, drawing the man's attention from the book in his lap. "Dinner's about ready."

He makes it all the way onto the gazebo before he notices the graves.

The sight of them is so jarring he slams to a halt, his brain struggling to catch up. Gravestones. Graves. A cemetery? Apparently his confusion is obvious, because Thomas lets out a short laugh under his breath.

"They not tell you about what's out behind the manor?"

"They didn't, no. I don't come out here often. Probably... probably everyone assumed someone else had told me."

He can't take his eyes off them. The idea of having graves on property, just beyond where the forest meets the grounds strikes him as unimaginably grim.

The fact that Thomas apparently spends most of his free time within spitting distance of them is even more so.

He almost asks who's buried back there, but it's easy enough to figure it out: probably the _original_ Thomas and Martha Wayne. Probably their parents, and back and back until the original manor was built. Only the thought fails him more or less immediately: there aren't enough graves for that.

"You're wondering who's back there."

"I was thinking about it," Khalid admits. "I thought... the Waynes. Older generations, but..."

"Wrong layout for that, for one."

Thomas is right: unless there are for more graves he's not able to see, the layout is... unusual. There's two graves, a gap, two more graves, a gap, and then three graves. They're all in a row, but they're almost _grouped._ Thomas beckons to him, and Khalid hesitates before following Thomas off the far side of the gazebo towards the graves themselves.

The graves have clearly been well maintained, with no obvious signs of wear. They can't have been there for more than a few years at most, because there's no sign of wear at all.

 _Nyssa Raatko,_ the first one reads. It's a name that means nothing to Khalid, although the message below gives at least some context. _She chose her own path._

"Who...?"

"Damian's aunt. Beside her is Damian's mother, and then his grandfather."

That, at least, is a name he knows. Ra's al Ghul is—was, most likely, although as far as Khalid knows no one ever confirmed his death—a very well known _and_ dangerous man, at least in the superhero community.

"Doesn't he..." Khalid hesitates, and then decides that Thomas isn't likely to judge him for it. "Doesn't he come back to life?"

"Usually. His followers use the Lazarus pit to restore him to health. Only our world has far fewer pits than most others, and they're much weaker. From what I was told, the most powerful one was in Gotham, but it's destroyed, which is why Ra's succumbed."

the other two sets of graves are at least familiar names, although confusing in their own way. Thomas and Martha Wayne are clearly enough the ones from _this_ world, rather than the grave for the Thomas beside him. But Grant and Joseph Wilson only confuse him: he knows that Slade had a Joseph who passed away, but he _swears_ that Slade was talking about Grant only a few nights ago.

"And them?"

"Bruce's real parents," he confirms, his wording a warning sign to Khalid, a more clear understanding of the family dynamics. Even if Bruce seems to, in Khalid's mind, treat Thomas as his father. Sure, Alfred is _also_ his father, and they do seem closer to him, but it's not as if Bruce shuts Thomas out.

And yet Thomas has just _very_ clearly established otherwise.

"And?"

"Joseph Wilson is Slade's son, but you'd have to ask him about it. Grant Wilson is Will's son."

Khalid can't help but let out a small sigh of relief that he wasn't _completely_ misunderstanding the situation.

"Grant is... the one Slade talks about?"

"The oldest son. Will's ran away and died. Slade's was given up for adoption without his knowledge. I haven't met this world's one, but Slade goes to visit him and they're establishing a relationship of sorts."

Khalid feels like he has a much better understanding of the family as a greater whole, but it does leave a very obvious question for him. It feels like a coal on his tongue demanding to be let out.

"You... seem to be out here a lot."

It's the closest he'll come to actually asking. There's no nicer way to phrase _why are you always out here looking at graves of people you've never met._ No gentle way to broach the subject.

Thomas's eyes drift towards Martha's grave and Khalid knows immediately what the answer is. He almost doesn't want Thomas to answer, and yet to Khalid's surprise, Thomas _does._

He answers. He tells the truth.

"When Barry fixed the timeline, the people in my world didn't die. They were... fixed. They returned to the lives they should have had. If things had gone properly, I'd have gone with them. I'd have been him." He nods to the other Thomas's grave, his expression solemn. "But things didn't. I'm still here. I... look at the faces of people I have known my entire life and don't even recognize them. The world is... very different, and I'm the only sign that the other timeline even existed."

He's a man out of time, only _time_ is more like an entirely different world. Khalid can relate to seeing people you know and feeling like you don't even recognize them, but Thomas's experiences are on a whole different scale.

"There's nothing to mourn. No one died. Barry's sacrifice meant that the millions who died when Europe sunk _lived._ But the versions I knew... they're gone."

"And it hurts, even if it's for the better," Khalid says softly. He understands that more than anything else: leaving their old world behind was better. It was the right thing to do.

And yet at times, it still feels like a mistake.

Like he should have stayed behind and joined them.

"Thomas?"

Bruce's voice cuts the silence, and Khalid jerks around, surprised. Bruce is walking towards them, an expression of concern of his face, and he doesn't stop until he reaches the gazebo itself, climbing the single stair without pause.

"Everything alright?"

"Just fine," Khalid says quickly. There's absolutely no reason for him to feel guilty, and yet he does: he feels like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't.

"Dinner's ready," Bruce reminds them, and Khalid realizes that he was _supposed_ to be bringing Thomas back right then.

"We're coming," Thomas says simply. "You can go ahead."

Bruce squints a bit, eyes glancing between them, but after a moment he nods, turning away and leaving them to talk.

"Sorry about that," Thomas says, folding his arms across his chest. "You were saying?"

Khalid can barely remember what he was saying, and he flushes, reaching up to scratch at his cheek absentmindedly.

"I think I was pretty much done," he admits. "I... get what you're saying, even if our situations aren't really directly comparable. And... thanks for sharing it with me."

"Probably should have before," Thomas huffs, the somber mood broken. "I'm pretty sure Bruce intended for me to be helping you adjust to life here, and I haven't been doing much of that."

Khalid's pretty sure it's the exact opposite, but he doesn't correct Thomas.

"We should go get food," he says, nodding to the house. "If we take much longer, they're going to send out a search party."

They head towards the house without another word, and all the while Khalid feels like he's peeked behind the curtain and seen what waits for him outside.


	19. Chapter 19

Khalid cracks the following morning. He's not sure what specifically it is that does it, but _something_ in what Thomas said changes his mind.

Or maybe it's not what he said, but the fact that they spoke at all; that Thomas was willing to open up to him, and meanwhile Khalid feels like he hasn't done a damn thing.

He should be _trying,_ so just after breakfast he heads to his room, pulls the note out of his pocket, and calls Zatanna.

The three rings it takes for her to pick up are some of the longest of his life. Time practically seems to warp, stretching on and on until he starts second guessing even calling at all, and then—

And then she picks up, and all his stressing was for nothing.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's Khalid." He has no idea who he's talking to, but he gets the answer quickly enough.

"Oh, Khalid! Hold on, she's just in the other room." He can hear her moving across the apartment, and distantly can hear his name being said as the phone is passed over.

And then a moment later, the other Zatanna picks up.

"Khalid! It's good to hear from you. I wasn't sure if you'd had a chance to stop by the shelter yet."

"I... I got around to it a few days ago." He's not sure if he wants to say he was busy, because he wasn't, so instead he simply says nothing at all. Better to chance the subject entirely. "How have things been?"

"Oh, they're really good." He can hear a creak, like Zatanna's just taken a seat somewhere. A chair, maybe. Or a really squeaky box-spring couch. "It's been an adjustment, to say the least, but Z's been very accommodating. How are things on your end?"

"Good. Great, really. The Waynes—Wilson-Waynes, that is—are really nice. I've got my own room, and they're doing a lot to help me adjust."

"That's good. Great, even. I— sorry to change the subject, but I wanted to know if you wanted to come over. For dinner, or lunch, or just... in general."

There's something strained about the way she says it, not as if she isn't sure she wants to invite him, but more like she isn't sure if he'll take it well.

"Sure," he says before he can allow himself to second guess. There's nothing wrong with it. Meeting up with someone would probably be good for him, even. Having a _social life._ "When?"

"When are you free?"

He doesn't have the heart to tell her that he doesn't have _anything_ to do at all, so he adjusts.

"Whenever you're free. I can make the schedule work."

"Would lunch be too crazy? We've got a show this evening, so we're not going to be as availible as I'd like. Lots of evening work, while the days are pretty empty."

Khalid might have something he's supposed to do, but no one's _told_ him anything, so he decides he might as well go for it.

"Sure, I should be free. If you give me your address, I'll stop by for lunch. We can talk then."

His mouth feels dry at the thought of talking. There's nothing wrong with Zatanna herself—either one, really—but talking to her feels bizarrely personal. Zatanna doesn't know _him,_ but she knows the kind of life he had. She knows the people who were a part of _his_ life.

She knew Kent Nelson.

He pushes the thought away, too painful to be thought of, and focuses on the present as she rattles off her address. He takes a moment to write it down on his phone, unfamiliar with Gotham on a personal level but fully capable of looking at a map. He's not going to be able to _walk,_ but he's sure he can figure out a way.

"See you in two hours, then?"

Actually getting from point A to point B is a lot more difficult than it appears at first. Khalid doesn't have a drivers license, he doesn't have a bike, and he's lost the ability to fly. He's forced to head down to the kitchen and figure out who he can bum a ride off of, pondering the possibilities before deciding that Slade is probably the safest option. Bruce is likely to ask questions, and Khalid isn't even sure Thomas has his license, but Slade?

Slade's his best bet.

"Hey, Slade? I was wondering if you could drop me off in the city."

Khalid's second guessing his choice from the moment Slade shoots him a particularly appraising look. Jason, he realizes. Jason or Joey would have been a _much_ better idea. They'd have just said yes and moved on. Slade looks a whole lot like he's about to start asking questions, and Khalid does _not_ want to answer them.

Even if he's not entirely sure why. It shouldn't matter where he's going. It's not as if it's a _secret._

And yet he's still reluctant to say anyway. It feels like something _personal._ Something that shouldn't be shared.

"Any place in particular?" Slade finally asks. Khalid knows he's being analyzed, and tries to stand up a little bit straighter as a result.

"Anywhere downtown would work." He can figure out the bus schedule; it's not as if public transit in Gotham could _possibly_ be any worse than New York City's.

"Any specific time, or just... in general?"

Slade's definitely trying to work out what he's doing, but he also doesn't seem interested in directly _asking,_ and Khalid plans to take advantage of that.

"I mean, now would be great if you aren't doing anything."

Slade is definitely _not_ doing anything, and while he squints at Khalid a bit, he finally offers a shrug and turns to head down to the garage.

Khalid follows. He has a wallet with his ID, and there's some money (supposedly for emergencies) in there, but other then that he's travelling pretty light. He's halfway to the car when he realizes what he forgot, and lets out a little yelp, glancing behind him.

"Sorry, I just— give me a second, I forgot my bag."

He leaves Slade standing in the garage as he doubles back, heading up to his room and grabbing his backpack. It's simple and he's barely touched it, but it's just the right size to shove the helmet in. He doesn't _understand_ how he almost forgot it, and he feels a lot more relaxed as he heads back down to the car.

Slade raises an eyebrow.

"...Got everything?"

Khalid nods, and that's the end of it. Slade doesn't ask for any details as he drives him into town. Maybe he wants to leave Khalid with his privacy, or maybe he thinks he's figured it out. He just drops Khalid off at a mall and tells him to call him (or anyone else) when he's ready to be picked up.

And then he leaves, and Khalid is faced with the task of figuring out how to get to Zatannas.

The obvious answer is to grab a cab, but Khalid is nothing if not resourceful, and he's confident he can make do without dipping too heavily into his emergency money. It's easy enough to look over his options, and easier still to work out an answer to his problems. 

He has time to kill: more than an hour to spare before he's supposed to be at Zatannas, and his estimates tell him it should take an hour and a half to get there by foot. Maps are never terribly accurate when it comes to a city like Gotham, and Khalid's sure he can make it there in time. There are always shortcuts, paths that aren't listed. Even as someone new to the city, Khalid knows where to find them: hiking trails and walking paths. Sometimes he jogs to make up for time, cutting down side streets and entering parks from the side to save time.

Even if Gotham isn't his home, it has all the same hallmarks of the city he lived his whole life in. It's still a _city,_ and Khalid feels almost instinctively like he knows it. He makes good time, truly _alone_ for the first time since the end of his world, and by the time he arrives at the address he was given, Khalid feels strangely refreshed.

Things feel right for the first time in a long time.

Zatanna turns out to live in a relatively modest apartment located in a large (and fairly old) highrise. Khalid has to buzz himself in, but no one gives him a second glance once he's through the doors. The fact that he's late isn't brought up at all, although when she opens the door Zatanna _does_ seem to raise an eyebrow at how bedraggled he looks.

"You might as well come in," she says, waving him in. "Although you look like you just ran a marathon."

Not a marathon, but something like it, and Khalid wouldn't have it any other way.


	20. Chapter 20

Zatanna's apartment somehow managed to feel both _homey_ and _completely alien._ Sure, it was nice and snug, with a big plush couch in the living area right off the entrance and plenty of photos and other decorative touches...

...But a lot of those decorative touches were about _stage magic,_ which lent the entire room a... confusing sort of appeal. There were posters featuring a man that Khalid assumed was Zatanna's father, and ones of other famous magicians that Khalid had actually heard of. There was a magician's hat on the side table. He half expected to spot a rabbit hopping around somewhere.

One of the Zatanna's had greeted him at the door, waving him in and plying him with chips, but he hadn't even been sure which one it was until he'd settled in and been invited to make himself at home. Only then did the second Zatanna emerge from one of the side rooms (a bedroom?) and finally clarify things.

"Oh, Khalid! Honestly, when I left that message, I wasn't sure if you were actually going to show up."

Her grin is infectious as she settles in on one of the seats opposite him, the other Zatanna—apparently the one from this world—retiring to the kitchen to make lunch.

"If I'm being honest, I wasn't sure I was either," he admits. "Everything's been... difficult. A part of me wondered if it wouldn't be easier if I didn't have any connection to the old world."

But that would mean giving up the helmet, and...

And he can't.

"I get that," Zatanna admits with a sigh. "I talked for a while with Zatanna about just... getting away. Just me, or me and her. Going and seeing the world... Peru, maybe. Gregorio invited me to come if I wanted to. He said I could stay with his family."

"You're in touch...?" Khalid's surprised by that, but he's not sure why; just because _he_ wasn't keeping touch doesn't mean Zatanna felt the same way.

"After I made the choice to stay, I decided I'd keep in touch with everyone. It wasn't hard to get a hold of him, considering he lives in the Sacrarium—"

Khalid's raised eyebrow is enough to draw the much-needed clarification from Zatanna.

"You know how they said there's no magic here? Well, that isn't quite true. Magic exists, it's just much, _much_ weaker than it was in our world. Barely existent, really. I'm not sure if the magic is here because the gods were once, or if the gods being here is a sign that magic always existed, but... the point is that places we thought of as _places of power_ still exist here."

"Leylines?"

"Same principle, regardless of what you call them. Gregorio lives on top of Peru's largest, right in the heart of Lima. If I pull enough magic together, I can... reach out to him, the way he reached out to his counterpart."

"So you have magic telepathy." That feels... inefficient.

"I did it once, just enough to get in touch. Now we just call. It's easy for him to do from the Sacrarium, but that kind of long distance magic is beyond me unless I'm in a place with a lot of latent magic."

"Cell phone is more handy, for sure," Khalid admits with a little laugh. It's the opposite of their old world, where magic felt infinitely more handy. Here, technology seems to rule... and yet at the same time, the technology he's encountered is _behind_ what they had.

Khalid doesn't want to think of the world as _backwoods,_ but it sure feels like that at times.

"So how're the Waynes? Wilson-Waynes? Wayne-Wilsons?" Zatanna asks, eyebrows raised.

"Good," Khalid admits after a moment's hesitation.

"And living with them?"

"Also good." He doesn't have to hesitate thinking about that. His time in the manor has been _undeniably_ good, and he's intimately aware of how lucky he is to have been taken in by them.

He doubts he'd have done half as well as he is if he'd been staying in the shelter.

"Just good?" Zatanna asks as she leans back into her seat. "Nothing else?"

"It is... a lot, at times," he's forced to admit after a second. "There are a lot of people, and... I mean, everyone is _nice,_ but..."

"But it's not home."

Zatanna's smiling, but it isn't a happy smile. She _gets it._ She's been right there with him. She, too, has lost everything and everyone.

Life as he knows it is over, but the same is true for her.

"It's not home," he agrees.

They both have to start over.

"Food?" The other Zatanna asks, popping in from the kitchen. "I know I'm interrupting, but... well, I don't want it to get cold."

Khalid's happy for the distraction. The food isn't nearly as good as the professional cuisine that Will serves, but it's a different kind of enjoyable: the kind of home cooked meal he could have seen his parents making, the kind that tastes like _home_ rather than something he'd find at a five-star hotel.

He finds his eyes watering as he eats. He doesn't hate living with the Wayne-Wilsons. He enjoys it, even.

But it isn't home.

The Zatanna's both seem to _get it._ Even if only one of them was misplaced, neither of them interrupts or draws attention to his misery. They let him work through it at his own speed, waiting until he's ready to talk.

He just wants something to hold onto. Zatanna and those at the shelter might be from the old world, but he didn't really _know_ them. They're strangers to him the same way the Wayne-Wilsons are.

Everyone—including himself—keeps telling him that he'll find his place, but right then he doesn't _want_ to find his place: he wants to find something from home. He wants something to hold onto, to prove to himself that he won't forget.

"Could you... show me how magic works here?" He finally makes himself say. He's not even sure who he's talking to, but either of the Zatanna should be capable. He know it's not going to be the same, but at least it'll be _something._

"I can show you a bit," the less familiar Zatanna says. "Mostly it should be the same stuff you already know, just... harder. Like jogging, compared to jogging far above sea level."

Not helpful, considering his skill level is well below either Zatannas, but he'll have to make do.

When lunch is over, they clear a space in the living room and settle into a triangle. The Zatannas have supplies, and they've obviously done similar things before with just the two of them, preparing the area as Khalid observes.

The way they practice magic is very, very different from the magic he learned from Nabu and his great-uncle. There's no helmet, no staff, no _tool._ The focus is entirely on words instead, and the different is almost _painful_ for Khalid.

"I'm going to assume you know a lot of this, but I'm not sure how different things are for you," the Zatanna from this world says, "so I'm going to just start from the basics. Realistically, there's only one actual type of magic. When people talk about different types of magic—about magicians compared to sorcerers—it's all the same thing, just different ways to reach it."

"Different methods of travel that all reach the same destination," Khalid confirms, earning himself a nod in response.

"Exactly. Different groups have their own ways of doing it, but _how_ you to it doesn't actually matter that much. You just find the way that works for you." She turns, glancing to the Zatanna that Khalid's more familiar with, who offers a shrug.

"I'm not sure how Fate taught you to do things, exactly. I imagine most of your magic was done using the helmet as a focus, and that... obviously isn't going to really work. Did you want to try our method, or...?"

"Might as well," he admits. "Just... saying it backwards?"

A twin set of nods before one explains.

"It's just a trick to make sure you focus. When you're practicing, it's hard to have your mind wander _and_ say things backwards. By the time you can just say things backwards without having to focus, you've practiced enough."

A candle is produced and placed right in the middle of them. It's an old, old type of practice, something Khalid's done plenty of times. It was easy for him even when he started; the only time he struggled at all was when Kent had taken the helmet away and made him practice on his own.

Right then? He's not even sure he can do it.

"Thgil," Zatanna says, waving her hand over the candle. It does, a small flame springing to life on the wick. There's a momentary smile, and then she extinguishes it, turning to her counterpart.

The second Zatanna has a lot more force in her word, and the flame is smaller at first: she's unused to the level of magic she's dealing with, and when she does manage to light the candle, it flares before settling back down.

And then its his turn. The candle is still releasing a thin trail of smoke. Khalid should be able to light it easily. It's right on the cusp of being lit anyway, and yet...

And yet he can already tell he's going to struggle. Zatanna's magic is not his own. It invokes no gods, leans on no artifacts. It's alien to him, and yet he tries it anyway, holding his hands out and focusing.

"Thgil." He doesn't say it quite right, not fluidly in the way the Zatannas do, but it doesn't seem to matter anyway: the candle has no reaction, and Khalid can tell even before that because it doesn't _feel_ right. Casting has a specific, hard to define feeling to it, and that feeling simply isn't there.

"You can try—"

Khalid waves his hand, cutting them off. It's not going to work: all his practice, all his experience... all of it links to a completely different method, and trying to just say things backwards means starting from scratch. It's immensely frustrating, but he knows he just has to figure out—

Someone knocks at the door. All three of them turn towards it, staring in confusion. Apparently none of them know who's at the door, and yet for some reason, Khalid feels _something._

Something almost like magic: a connection to something greater than him.


	21. Chapter 21

Khalid certainly isn't going to get the door to someone else's apartment, so he stays sitting. Zatanna—Zatanna- _D,_ technically—tidies away the candle, disguising what they were doing as Zatanna-A goes for the door.

"One of our neighbors seems to think Z's a Satanist," Zatanna-D mutters under her breath. "Hopefully that's not her."

Khalid doesn't want to find out, and makes a point to scoot out of line of sight of the door. He can hear it click open, and then a little noise of surprise from Zatanna, and then... an overly familiar voice.

"Zatanna," the woman says. "Can I come in? I'm sure you can imagine what I was hoping to talk about."

"Of course," Zatanna says, stepping aside as Diana Prince walks right inside.

Khalid hasn't had much experience with Wonder Woman, but he at least met her, and she's hard to mistake for anyone else. He saw her picture a lot while getting caught up, helped in no small part due to her status as the head of the Justice League. The founder. The one who pulled them all together.

She's an amazing woman, which makes her presence in Zatanna's apartment that much more confusing.

Even more so is the fact that the first thing she does when stepping inside is turn, notice him, and then _say his name._

"Oh, Khalid? I didn't know you were here."

The fact that Wonder Woman—the princess of Themyscira—knows _his name_ is downright bewildering.

"Uh... hi?" He offers blearily. "Sorry, I just... am confused."

Understatement. He can't figure out why Diana's there _or_ why she knows him, but her smile is friendly enough.

"This works out perfectly," she says. "I was coming to check in on Zatanna, but I was going to go up to the manor after to check in on you."

It's Zatanna-A who clarifies things, albeit by way of a question.

"On behalf of... the DEO? ARGUS?"

"The League, mostly. Most of the new arrivals are in one place, but we feel it's important to keep in touch with those who aren't. That would be the two of you, as well as those who left for Peru."

Oh. When she puts it like that, the whole thing seems a lot simpler: she's checking in on them because, realistically speaking, they're wild cards. Any of them could pose a serious danger, and she wants to make sure she knows what's going on with them.

Not an entirely unfair idea, really.

"I wasn't expecting you to be here, though," Diana restates, looking pointedly at Khalid. "I didn't know you three were... friends?"

"I was just demonstrating how magic works here," Zatanna-A explains. "It's quite different from what they're used to, so I figured some basic tutoring wouldn't go astray."

"Oh, magic?" Diana's eyes light up, her hands folding together in front of her. "I don't suppose I could watch?"

All of a sudden, Khalid is _thankful_ for his experiences in medical school, because if he'd been five years younger he'd probably have dropped dead from the stress of _taking a magic class while under the observation of Wonder Woman._

Even with his experiences, it's still an unbelievably stressful idea.

"Do you not... have magic?" He asks carefully. He knows Diana-D did, and he's struggling to understand how she could even _exist_ without magic. Everything he knows about Diana indicates that she should be inherently magical: he's fairly sure she's supposed to have been _created_ by the gods.

Her reaction catches him off guard. She seems to stop, clearly thinking heavily about it as if it's something she'd never even considered before.

"I... suppose one could look at it that way. When I think of magic, I think of people... casting spells. Doing the sort of thing that you do. The magic I deal with is more inherent... that a creature is just inherently invested with magic, but can't..."

"Project it?" Khalid offers. He sort of gets what she's saying, he's just never drawn the line like that.

"Exactly. For me, they're very different things."

"For us, they'd be one and the same," Zatanna-D offers. "A lot of what you'd consider magicians are only magicians because they are inherently magical. Constantine—ours, at least—was such a strong mage because he had demon blood. Normally there's a... cost to be paid, only demons don't necessarily play by human rules, so it let him sidestep the worst of it."

It's not quite _news_ to Khalid, but it wasn't something that was ever confirmed to him before. It fits what he knows, and for a moment he wonders if it was a factor in Constantine's choice to leave. Would staying in a low-magic dimension have tampered with him, in that he was inherently magical?

Or maybe he's just giving Constantine too much credit.

"Magic feels... fundamentally different here," Zatanna-D offers. "It's much weaker than we're used to."

"Bruce asked me about that, actually," Diana says. "We talked quite a bit about it. The gods certainly do exist, and can enact their will upon the Earth, but they're not strong in the way that they're described to be in other worlds. Gods draw their magic from belief, which explains why they've become less powerful as worship of them ended, but even at their peak, what I've heard from the second universe is much more intense."

"Is it possible something happened?" Khalid speculates. "Some... fundamental difference between the universe that explains why magic faded here? Why it's so weak?"

"It's a possibility," Diana agrees, "but I wouldn't really know much about it. We've speculated about differences between dimensions before, but it never just comes down to one difference. If you think it might be important, I could speak to my mother about it, and see what she has to say."

Khalid looks to Zatanna-D. Zatanna-D looks back, and after a moment gives a quick nod before looking back to Diana.

"I think that might be worthwhile. I mean, it couldn't _hurt_ to know more about how magic works here," Khalid says, considering the implications.

And boy are there a _lot._ What does it mean if magic is diminishing? What does it mean if there's a source, or a cause? There are so many differences between the dimensions, and Khalid can't help but wonder how many of them can be traced back to the lack of magic.

Diana's phone chimes, and she glances at it only quickly before she clears her throat.

"I was only intending to be in here a few minutes—just passing through, really. I assume everything's going alright with the two of you...?" She glances between the Zatannas, and Khalid keeps his mouth firmly shut.

"Just fine," Zatanna-A confirms. "I worked her into my act and now everyone thinks we're twins."

"They'll figure it out eventually," Diana says with a sigh. "I actually need to get going. I'm supposed to be stopping by the Kent house, actually. Did you need a ride, Khalid...?"

The mental debate doesn't last long. If she's going all the way up there already, he might as well: it's not as if he has too much more to do with the Zatannas, and he can always call them if he needs more information.

"If you don't mind. It'll save Slade having to drive down here and pick me up."

"Perfect. Hopefully you don't mind the back seat."

Diana waits by the door as Khalid says his goodbyes. He owes the Zatannas a great deal, just for the sheer amount he's learned, and he promises he'll keep in touch if he learns anything else.

"And if you manage to light a candle," Zatanna-D adds. "Keep in touch about that, too."

"I'll work on it," he promises. "Maybe I'll stop by sometime later. Or have you over at the house. I'd have to talk to Bruce."

"Bruce would say yes," Diana says with a laugh. "He'll take any excuse."

Khalid barely knew Zatanna before, but that doesn't mean he's stuck that way. Establishing a _new_ friendship is an option, but that doesn't feel like what he's doing.

Instead, it feels like Zatanna's a member of the family he's only just meeting. A cousin, or a long lost sister. The things they have in common are grim, but they _are_ still things they have in common, and he feels at ease with her in a way that he didn't expect.

"I'll let you know what I learn," he confirms, and then it's time to go, leaving with Diana to head back to the manor.


	22. Chapter 22

Khalid has plans, but those plans don't last. Everything he was going to talk to Diana about dies on his lips when they leave the apartment building and he realizes they won't be alone.

There's a girl in the back of Diana's car. The passenger seat is stacked with large brown cardboard boxes, the kind probably filled with important files, which means he's sitting right next to the girl in the back.

It shouldn't be an issue. Even if he didn't have siblings, it's not the first time he's been around kids, but something about her makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. She's small, for one: no more than fourteen at the _absolute_ oldest. She seems almost shy, not quite looking at Khalid but still sneaking glances just the same.

He can't figure out what it is. She's perfectly ordinary looking (although her eyes do seem a bit sunken, as if she hasn't slept properly in weeks). She could very easily have been a relative, even, a long lost cousin come to visit his father. But once he's buckled himself into the car, the feeling of _otherness_ is only intensified.

Apparently his discomfort is obvious, because even Diana notices.

"Khalid? Is something wrong?"

He really doesn't know how to put it into words. Whatever he's feeling simply doesn't make sense. 

"I... think?" He says, which is apparently not nearly convincing enough for Diana to be satisfied.

"This is Siracca. She's going up to Clark's place for a... well, a sleep-over, I guess."

Siracca. He doesn't know the name, and nothing in the introduction clarifies things.

But that doesn't stop him from offering his hand. Siracca stares at it nervously, obviously shy despite the close proximity, and after a moment she settles for a small nod of her head. Khalid withdraws his hand and offers her a nod in return.

"Are you..." Khalid pauses, trying to find the words. "Are you the same as Diana?"

It's a cryptic statement, but he's hoping they'll know what he means. The feeling he gets from Siracca is similar to the feeling he got from Diana: the feeling just before she knocked on the door, the _sense_ of her.

It's something related to magic, but he's not sure exactly what.

"Oh!" Diana clearly gets it, which Khalid is thankful for. "That's what it is. Siracca and I are both demigods. If Constantine has magic because he has demon blood, it might be that which you're sensing?"

"Oh!" It makes sense, or at least _mostly_ makes sense. It explains what he feels from Diana, and _most_ of what he feels from Siracca. It doesn't really explain why Siracca's feeling is so much different (and more intense) then Dianas, but it's enough to calm his nerves. "That's probably it. Magic here is lower, so having such a large amount of magic in one person is probably... setting off my senses, I guess?"

"You're magic?" Siracca asks. Her voice is almost whisper quiet, small and nervous as Diana finally starts the car.

"I'm a sorcerer. Or I was, in my old world."

"He's one of the ones from universe D," Diana explains as she drives. "The one I mentioned."

"Who's staying with Damian and Thad?"

Khalid nods, the explanation starting to come together. She seems to know both Damian, Thad and Jon, and considering her age...

"You were one of the Teen Titans...?"

He didn't pay much attention to them beyond the most important details, but she does look like the group photo he saw. Not much information was released about the individual Titans, and the speculation hadn't identified her for reasons which are only now becoming obvious to him. If she's an Amazon, she isn't going to show up in a google search.

"Yep!" Siracca says, lighting up immediately on mention of her old team. "We're supposed to be restarting again, but I'm not sure we're going to end up doing it. Everyone's excited, but... well, we all have our own things to do."

"But you're still staying in touch, right?" Diana says, peeking at Siracca in the mirror and getting a quick nod in return.

They make small talk for the rest of the ride back. Siracca's a lot more willing to talk when she's talking about the Titans, and it's obvious how much it means to her. He learns the names of the other Titans—some of which he recognizes, some of which he doesn't—and more about how Will was as the head of the team.

"Do you think he'd come by Jons? I know Damian and Thad are coming, but Will..."

"I could tell him he should stop by," Khalid offers. "I'm sure he'd at least want to say hi." At the very least Khalid figures that Will can drop Damian off. "Is anyone else going to come?"

"Soranik is in space, and Jackson is doing important diplomatic stuff. Mia wanted to come but couldn't right away, and Tanya said she had work. So it's really just the younger part of the team," Siracca rattles off. "Half the team are _adults_ now, so they don't have as much time." She wrinkles her nose, and Diana lets out a laugh.

Diana apparently has things to talk about with Clark, so she opts not to walk him him. Khalid's only taken the forest path between the Kent's house and Wayne Manor a few times (mostly when going to grab Damian or Thad), but it's easy enough to navigate and clearly marked. He's nearly back at the manor when Titus bounds up to him, sniffing at him quickly as his tail furiously wags. Khalid's not much of a dog person, but he gives Titus a quick scratch, letting the dog trail him back to the house.

"Khalid?" Damian calls down. He's up on the balcony, staring down in confusion at Khalid as if he can't quite work out how he got there.

"Mrs. Prince gave me a ride," he explains. "Is Titus supposed to be out here?"

"He won't go far," Damian says. "But you can let him in if he wants to go in."

Titus doesn't want to go in, flopping down on the grass as Khalid heads back inside.

Damian isn't the only person to be surprised by his early return. Thomas and Alfred are in the living room near the back of the house, playing with the twins, and each gives him a nod (or wave) of their own as he heads into the house in search of Will.

When he passes Slade in the hall, the older man double takes, letting out a snort of surprise as he squints at him.

"You... walked back? You could have called."

"I ran into Mrs. Prince," he explains, unsure if he should be calling her something else. "She gave me a ride back. Did you know where Will is?"

"Upstairs with Bruce," Slade says, almost off hand. "Where did you go that you ran into _Diana_ of all people?"

He should have known Slade would ask about it, but he still has to take a moment to pull himself together in order to give a proper answer.

"I went to see Zatanna."

Slade's eyes narrow immediately.

"Which one?"

"Both. They live together."

Khalid gets the impression that Slade isn't sure what to make of the information he's been given, but he's happy to tuck the information away for later. He seems to consider it, his eye roaming slightly, and then makes a decision he doesn't bother letting Khalid in on.

"Alright. Next time you should just let me know where exactly to drop you off. Or you can work on getting your driver's license and just borrow a car."

Khalid does _not_ want to borrow a car. He hates driving, a fact which is helped in no small part by the fact that he lived his entire life in New York City. Traffic was horrendous and public transport was accessible, so why even learn to drive?

"And you should check on your cat," Slade adds. "He can be out if you're around, but otherwise, keep him in your room. I had to intercept him on the way to the nursery this morning."

"I thought I'd closed the door, but..." Khalid wrinkles his nose. He's not putting it past Dexter to have figured out how to open the door: the cat is too smart for his own good.

"It's fine. Not an actual issue, just a reminder."

They part, and Khalid heads to the stairs. He still needs to pass the message on to Will, and he only stops when, his foot on the bottom step, Slade clears his throat rather pointedly.

"Khalid."

Khalid turns to stare at him like a deer in the headlights.

"You don't want to interrupt Will right now."

It takes less than half a second for Khalid to clue in. Will and Bruce, alone upstairs. The fact that he shouldn't interrupt. His face goes red, the idea of Will and Bruce doing _things_ flooding his mind, and the fact that Slade smirks like an absolute _bastard_ doesn't help things either.

"I could have lived without knowing that," Khalid mumbles. He doesn't want to think about it. He _especially_ doesn't want to think about why Slade would be downstairs while Will and Bruce are _not._

"Tried to avoid it, but you missed the hint."

He almost tells Slade to _be less subtle next time,_ but decides politeness is probably the better option, offering a meager nod.

"When you— _if_ you go upstairs, could you tell Will that Siracca was hoping he'd come over and visit?"

"You can tell him yourself when you see him. I've got work to do down in the basement, so you'll probably see him first."

Khalid does _not_ want to talk to Will knowing that he was doing _things_ with Bruce, and apparently that much is obvious, because Slade takes pity on him.

"I'll let him know when I see him," Slade says. "You don't have to worry about it."

Khalid's all too happy to take the offered out, fleeing back to his bedroom as fast as he can and trying to think of absolutely anything else.


	23. Chapter 23

It turns out that trying to practice magic right then—an act which requires a great amount of concentration—is an unmitigated disaster.

For one, every time he gets even a moment of peace and tries to clear his mind, all he can think about is what's happening _elsewhere_ in the house, killing his concentration.

For another, Dexter is _not_ having any magic in the room. Every time Khalid tries to do anything at all, Dexter gets in the way. He flops on Khalid's lap, he paws at his hands, and at one point he simply jumps up Khalid's back to sprawl across Khalid's shoulders like the world's angriest scarf.

He spends almost an hour trying, and then simply gives up. Knowing he isn't going to get any work done, he instead scoops up Dexter, heading out into the house and looking for a distraction.

Joey and Jason aren't anywhere to be seen, and Era doesn't present much opportunity for interesting conversation. He ends up finding Alfred and Thomas first, settled into the living room with the twins, who are sprawled out on a colorful mat.

A colorful mat covered with little bat symbols, because of _course_ Bruce would find something like that.

"Khalid," Thomas calls, waving him over. "Coming to see the kids?"

Alfred doesn't greet him, his focus entirely on the cat in Khalid's arms. He's clearly giving whatever it is a great deal of thought.

"I figured I might as well. I couldn't focus on anything else."

Khalid's not a _huge_ fan of babies, but Terry and Matt are hard to dislike. They're both cute and fairly well behaved, and right then Terry is babbling away while Matt tries to eat his fist the way babies always seem to.

"This might be a good opportunity to see how Dexter does with the children," Alfred suggests. "He's attempted to _investigate_ the nursery several times now, and I think it would be useful to know how large of a risk that is."

Dexter yowls at Alfred, as if recognizing his name, and Khalid glances to Thomas, who offers a shrug.

"Might as well while we're here."

Khalid does _not_ want to be the one responsible for either baby getting scratched, but Alfred's right: it's important to figure out how bad the danger is. The _threat assessment,_ in mission terms.

Not that it makes him any less hesitant to release Dexter.

Dexter's been _unusually_ quiet, and Khalid can't tell if he's going to play nice, or if he's _pretending_ that he's going to play nice so he can sneak attack someone. He's more than a bit nervous as he bends down, releasing Dexter onto the floor and ready to leap into action, even if it means getting mauled himself.

Khalid doesn't breathe as Dexter slowly paces his way towards the babies. He's pretty sure Alfred and Thomas aren't either.

Dexter sniffs around the twins curiously, and then lightly paws at Terry. Khalid's watching like a hawk for even the slightest hint of claws, but Dexter keeps them hidden, simply patting at Terry's arm as the baby babbles at him.

And then, because of _course_ he had to make a problem of himself, Dexter hops partially over Terry's middle and simply sits down.

"Oh no," Khalid says, leaping into action to scoop the protesting cat up. "You are _way_ too big to sit on a baby like that. Sit _beside_ the baby." He carefully returns Dexter to the ground, watching closely as Dexter approaches Terry again. Khalid has to nudge Dexter with his foot to keep the cat from simply sprawling _across_ Terry, but eventually Dexter gets the idea, settling in against Terry's side.

Terry's delighted, digging his fingers into Dexter's fur. He doesn't quite have the manual dexterity required to actually tug on it, so Dexter doesn't seem to particularly mind Terry's attempts to pull him around.

"Probably best not to leave them unsupervised," Alfred notes as Khalid joins the two of them sitting on the floor. "Just to avoid any... unfortunate incidents."

"Wasn't planning to," Khalid says with a small laugh. He reaches out, scratching the top of Dexter's head and watching as Dexter sinks down into the carpet, perfectly relaxed.

"Will's going to be annoyed," Thomas says with a laugh. "Dexter _refused_ to deal with him. This is the most calm I've seen them... ever. Never thought that was going to happen."

"Just takes a steady hand," Khalid insists. Dexter doesn't seem _that_ vicious. Just... maladjusted. Some attention was all Dexter needed, and Khalid's confident that before long he'll be acting like any other cat. "Did you not have any pets before?"

He isn't even really aiming it at anyone: it's an open question, but Thomas answers easily.

"We had talked about getting Bruce a dog when he was older, but after..." He pauses, then shakes his head. "I wasn't at the manor much, and there was no place for a dog while going out as Batman."

Khalid gets the impression that Thomas doesn't normally talk about it, because Alfred only barely conceals a look of surprise.

"I must admit I did consider a cat for myself," Alfred says, "but that was when Master Bruce was out running around the world _training,_ and I was alone in the manor. Now that there are so many people here, I think adding an extra pet would be quite unnecessary."

"Plenty around the house," Khalid adds. Titus and Portia probably felt like a lot, but adding Jade and Dexter on top of that... plus all the _people_ makes the whole thing seem quite excessive.

Or maybe his standards—three people and a cat in a small apartment—are just off.

But Khalid, having noticed Alfred's reaction, makes a conscious decision to see how far he can go. He _is_ supposed to be there to help Thomas integrate into the family, and if that means getting him talking, so be it.

"If you weren't at the manor much, was it really just... being Batman twenty four hours a day?"

"I worked. Funded my Batman exploits with a chain of casinos that I ran, and worked with Gordon on Wayne Security more often then not."

"A security company?" Assuming _Gordon_ is _Jim Gordon,_ Khalid's struggling to imagine a world where he wasn't a cop.

"Police, effectively. Gotham went bankrupt years back. Couldn't afford anything, so it all ended up being privatized. I funding the police, and for that Gordon felt like he owed me. It was all I could do just to keep them going."

Khalid doesn't do a good job hiding his alarm.

"They _privatized the police?_ They were just going to... to _get rid of it?"_

"You have to understand the state of the world." Thomas sounds absolutely exasperated. "It wasn't like here. It wasn't even like your world. There wasn't one big incident that made everything awful... it was a long, slow, downhill slide. We didn't have Superman. We didn't have a Flash. The Justice League wasn't something anyone could have even imagined."

Khalid's heard Thomas mention it before: the destruction of Europe, the grim reality. But something about the idea of Gotham being forlorn that the government just gave up feels... hard to believe.

Especially having spent the morning walking through a Gotham at it's peak.

"We shouldn't talk about it," Thomas says suddenly. "That world—that whole timeline—is gone. Better to leave it in the past where it belongs."

Khalid can't relate. No, not that he can't: he _won't._ He refuses to let things stay in the back. Even if they're all gone, even if everyone he knows, everyone he ever cared about is dead...

He isn't going to forget. He isn't going to just leave them in the past.

"Isn't there anyone you miss? Anyone you left behind?"

"They all died," Thomas says simply, a bitterness in his voice that Khalid should have expected. "Jim, Alfred, Martha... They're all gone now."

He isn't sure what makes him do it. Khalid simply leans forward, resting a hand on Thomas's shoulder. It's supposed to be a gesture of comfort, only a half second after his hand makes contact his brain catches up with what he's doing.

He's just... comforting Thomas.

Thomas stares at him, raising an eyebrow, and Khalid jerks his hand back, clearing his throat and trying not to drop dead of embarrassment.

He'd wonder what he was thinking, only the answer was that he wasn't.

"I... sorry," he blurts, trying his hardest to gauge how badly he screwed up. Thomas doesn't look upset, just _confused,_ like he can't quite figure out what Khalid was even doing.

The tension is palpable, and after a moment Alfred clears his throat.

"I believe young Matt has fallen asleep. Perhaps we should get both of the children into carriers?"

Khalid's happy for the excuse, and he suspects Thomas is too. Alfred and Thomas handle Matt and Terry, while Khalid gets the job of wrangling Dexter.

Really, he's happy for an excuse to catch his breath, because if he has to be around Thomas any longer he's going to die of embarrassment.


	24. Chapter 24

Really, it feels like a sort of mercy. Khalid's too busy feeling mortified by his weird attempt to comfort Thomas to be even _mildly_ bothered by the knowledge of what Will and Bruce were up to. When Will strolls down the stairs and heads off to the Kent house to check in with the kids, Khalid doesn't even blush. He's too busy running through what happened with Thomas, mentally picking apart the interaction and seeking some kind of magic answer.

He doesn't find one. The fact is that he felt bad for Thomas: he pitied him for what had happened. For what he'd lost. He'd wanted to comfort him, and he'd reached out to do just that.

He hates it. Khalid spends the better part of an hour pacing the house, Dexter held in his arms despite the cat's protest. Apparently his pacing is agitated enough that it draws Era's attention, who descends down out of the sky (or really, from his place near the third floor) to check on him.

"Is everything alright?"

Realistically, Khalid knows he can't avoid it. Better to deal with it right then rather than spending the night thinking about it.

"Do you know where Thomas is?"

"Doctor Wayne is out near the gazebo, in his usual place. You did not, however, answer my question."

"Didn't answer because I thought it was self-evident. I'm... bothered. I'll get over it."

Era gives him a withering gaze, and then simply ascends back up to his usual place.

Khalid isn't going to bring Dexter outside, so he opts to release him back into the house, confident he _probably_ won't cause much trouble. With Dexter wandering the house, Khalid heads out back and out towards the gazebo.

Thomas is right where Khalid expected him to be, settled in on one of the benches overlooking the graveyard. He has a book, which is a good sign, but he glances up when he hears Khalid coming, setting the book aside.

"Khalid."

"I just wanted to apologize," Khalid blurts before he can second guess himself any longer. "I was out of line."

"You weren't."

Thomas sounds so _absolutely certain_ that it catches Khalid off guard, and he has to take a moment to recover. How could he _not_ be out of line? He overstepped. He—

"You're going to be a doctor," Thomas continues. "A trauma surgeon. It's a hard job, and it only gets harder. You'll see people die a lot. You'll see people suffer and die, and you'll have to grapple with feeling that you didn't do enough. Empathy dies if you don't tend to it. It's easy to fall into the trap, to decide that you can do your job better if you don't have to feel broken up every time someone dies on the table. But the moment you do, you lose something. You can compartmentalize, but you can't _close off._ So no, you didn't do anything wrong. You did the right thing. The _correct_ thing."

All of a sudden it's like Khalid's been thrown back in time. He's sitting in class, being lectured by a professor (some kind of extremely reputable doctor with years and years under his belt). It's like nothing's even changed, and it sends his head spinning.

"I..." He makes an attempt, at least, to express why it feels so wrong to him. "You aren't my patient, though."

"I put you into that position when I started emotionally dumping on you." Thomas is being _extremely_ matter of fact about it, which is throwing Khalid off. Really, he wasn't expecting him to be so direct about something that is, in effect, _Thomas's own mistake._

And if Thomas is speaking his mind, he feels it's only fair he does the same.

"Have... you thought about talking to someone about it? If you're worried about that sort of thing..."

Thomas's good mood is gone in an instant, replaced with an unmistakable scowl.

"You've been talking to Bruce, haven't you?"

"Not about this," Khalid insists. It's obviously a sore point for Thomas, but at the same time, Khalid isn't going to back down now that he's brought it up. He's already dipped his toe in the water: he's got no choice but to dive right in. "It's obviously something you're struggling with. One of my professors talked about it all the time: that as a doctor we needed to keep our health in order in order to be able to help our patients, and that _health_ included both physical and mental. We couldn't help patients without risk if we were about to pass out from lack of sleep, and we couldn't help patients safely if we were on the verge of a mental breakdown. You might not be practicing as a doctor anymore, but... I think it still holds true."

Thomas is glaring at him, and it takes all of Khalid's willpower not to back down. Nothing he's said is wrong, and he _knows_ he shouldn't feel bad for saying it. Thomas is clearly struggling: what he's gone through is absolutely horrible. He's lost everything and everyone, and he, like Khalid himself, are untethered, lacking connection to anything.

Apparently Thomas expects Khalid to back down, because when he _doesn't,_ he looks genuinely taken aback. It takes him a moment to collect himself, huffing and puffing as he settles back into his seat, his brow still tightly knit.

There's more irritated grumbling from Thomas, but Khalid won't let him off the hook. After almost a solid minute, he finally relents.

"I'll think about it."

Khalid opts to go for the finishing blow.

"If you were your own patient, what would you want the patient to do?" Another bit of advice from an advisor, and the weary sigh it drags from Thomas tells Khalid it was the right answer.

"To go to goddamn therapy," he mutters. "Fine. I'll talk to Bruce about it. I'm sure he has plenty of opinions on the matter."

Khalid's in agreement, so he offers Thomas what he hopes is a comforting smile.

Thomas just gives him the stink-eye.

"Don't give me that look after you just brow-beat me into therapy."

That, at the very least, causes Khalid to hesitate.

"You aren't... actually mad, right?"

He needs to know if it's a real issue. He needs to know if he needs to apologize or not.

"Irritated, yes. Mad... no. Nothing you said was wrong, even if it was irritating."

That's fair. Khalid really doesn't mind being _irritating_ if it's for a good cause.


	25. Chapter 25

The rest of the evening feels like business as usual, but the following morning is anything but. Khalid releases Dexter into the house and heads into the kitchen to find a very large blond man holding a salad bowl full of leftovers, helping himself. Khalid has no idea who he is, and simply pauses in the doorway, squinting incredulously. He doesn't have any obvious physical similarities to Bruce, but that doesn't mean much: half the family is adopted, after all. For all he knows he's Bruce's long lost brother that only shows up when Will has leftovers stored in the fridge.

"Morning," the man says. He's got a beard, which makes Khalid think _Green Arrow,_ only it's larger and bushier and Khalid's pretty sure that Green Arrow isn't quite so buff.

"Morning," Khalid says, and then, because he's never been one to beat around the bush, just asks. "Sorry, who are you?"

The man finishes his spoonful, setting the food aside before offering a hand.

"Arthur Curry. You might know me as Aquaman."

Oh! Khalid's almost embarrassed to realize that he didn't recognize him in part because he's actually _dry._ He's used to Aquaman being perpetually soaked, and his hair looks a whole lot bigger when not wet.

"Khalid Nassour," he says, shaking Arthur's hand. "I was Doctor Fate in my world, although I don't think that will mean much to you."

"It doesn't, I'm afraid," Arthur admits. "I've heard of you from Bruce and Slade, but not all that much."

Khalid's more than a bit lost. It's not exactly _uncommon_ to have a member of the Justice League in the house (excluding, of course, those that live there), but normally it's Clark or maybe Diana. Arthur seems like an outlier, the sign of something... _else._

"Can I ask why you're here?"

"Oh, meeting for the League. We're discussing what to do about the Titans. You're familiar?"

"Familiar enough. Damian and Thad were both Titans, right?"

Arthur nods.

"As was one of mine, Jackson Hyde. I was going to be in the area anyway, so I brought him over to see the rest of his team mates now that he's recovered. Broke his leg while fighting Kryptonians."

Khalid knows what he's talking about: the fight that was nearly an all-out Kryptonian-Earth _war._ The destruction of the manor. The ransoming (depending on who you talked to) of Kandor. Will's _great big hero moment._

He definitely read about that.

"So they're starting up again?"

"We're discussing it. Your world had _teenage heroes_ as well? Did you start as one?" He looks over Khalid, and Khalid's really just happy he wasn't _mistaken_ for a teenager.

"I was an adult when I started, but my world had a lot of teenage heroes. Sidekicks to the big heroes, but also teams in their own right, like the Teen Titans."

"The more different things are, the more they stay the same," Arthur says with a laugh. "It sounds quite interesting, having _multiple_ teams of that sort. I can't imagine having the need, but then... well, things are different in general."

Khalid wracks his brains for everything he knows about Atlantis. Things seem similar enough between what he knew and what he's read, but it wasn't as if the summary was comprehensive.

It does, however, make him think of one particularly interesting point.

"Could I ask you something about Atlantis?"

Arthur's already inching back towards the food, but he pauses and looks Khalid over anyway.

"I don't see why not. It's hardly a secret."

"Do Atlanteans have magic?"

He doesn't really know all that much about it (or how it was in _his_ world, anyway), but he knows the general principle. Magic is magic: no matter how they're calling on it, it should be drawing from the same sources.

"I'm surprised you know about it," Arthur replies with a smile. "Few from the surface do."

Which means it does exist, and Khalid's heart swells with relief.

"Can you tell me about it? I just want to know how it compares to what I'm expecting."

"I'm afraid it won't help you much, but I'll share what I know. I'm not a practitioner, although my wife is. We draw from the magic of the sea, and use it to meet our needs. Shaping water, redirecting currents... it has a great number of uses."

Khalid considers his options, and is _extra_ careful with his wording. Not because he doesn't want to offend, but because he doesn't want to accidentally bias the results.

"What would you say the source of that magic is?"

Arthur looks perplexed, but he responds immediately anyway.

"I can't say I've given it much thought... or any. If I had to guess, I would say Atlantis itself. The magic is stronger the closer you are, and the greatest workings are always done there. Up near the surface—or elsewhere in the ocean—magic is fairly weak, almost to the point of being useless."

Khalid desperately wants a map. He wants to sketch out his idea, mark off the points he's already worked out. Zatanna's talk about places of power is the most convincing—and comprehensive—bit of understanding he has.

Magic _does_ exist, but it's so weak in most places it's hard to even tell. But there are places—like Atlantis—where the concentration is high enough that it functions the way he's used to.

"You've got a look," Arthur says with a snort. "I'd say it's a _very Bruce look,_ only Bruce has never been so focused on something that... academic. He'd only get that sort of look for a case."

"What sort of look?" Bruce asks, leaning into the kitchen. Apparently he's been there already, because he's got an empty mug in one hand and doesn't look at all surprised to find Arthur.

"We were talking about Atlantean magic," Arthur explains. "Khalid seems to have a theory."

"Oh?"

Bruce's attention on him is a weight, and Khalid has to swallow down his nerves over the situation. He _shouldn't_ be nervous. He's living in Bruce's house, and he's around him all the time. But something about presenting his theory to Bruce feels infinitely more formal then just eating lunch with him: it's less that he's presenting his theory to Bruce Wayne-Wilson, and more that he's presenting it to _Batman._

"Actually," Bruce adds before Khalid can even start, "why don't you tell the rest of the League? We're having a proper meeting this afternoon, and I'm sure they'd be interested. Magic is something that was largely off our radar until recently, but it deserves to be properly looked into."

What?

Bruce _can't_ be serious. He can't be genuinely suggesting that Khalid just _propose his half-baked idea to the Justice League._ He hasn't even run it past anyone. He hasn't even given it much thought.

"I— I don't think it's quite ready for that. It's just an early theory."

"We're not formal about things," Bruce reassures him. "It won't be strange to have you propose the idea. You are, without question, the most knowledgeable person about magic we have on hand."

 _That's_ a scary thought.

Bruce claps him on the shoulder and shoots him a big grin that's probably supposed to be reassuring, but just comes across as terrifying.

"I'm sure you'll do great!"

And then he's off to the fridge to grab something or other, leaving Khalid having an existential crisis.

He needs to prepare.

"I need to prepare," he makes himself say out loud, earning himself a concerned look from Arthur, who offers a quick nod and a look of sympathy.

Khalid has a _lot_ to do.


	26. Chapter 26

Khalid has only a few hours at most to prepare, so he makes the best of it. The Wayne library has an excellent selection of material, but it's simply faster for him to look things up online, borrowing Bruce's printer to create some visual aids. He makes lists of every spot he'd consider _magical,_ referencing them with what he knows and a series of online searches, and then classes them in order of likelihood. He notes down what he's heard from Zatanna, as well as what he knows from Arthur.

A part of him is cursing Bruce for springing it on him, but a larger part of him is thankful. If he ever wants his theory to be something more than an academic curiosity, he's going to have to go through the Justice League, and in most other circumstances he wouldn't get a chance.

It's only thanks to Bruce that he'll be able to address the issue at all.

He's working his way through a list of places he _knew_ were magic in his world when someone clears their throat, and he jumps, finding Jason standing over him. Khalid didn't hear him enter the library, but there he is anyway, eyebrows raised.

He's also, to Khalid's surprise, not in his ordinary clothes. He's wearing the suit he wears as Tern, only without the mask being pulled up. Official gear, because as Khalid realizes, Jason would _also_ be at the meeting: he is a member of the Justice League, after all.

"Bruce wanted me to come get you and see if you were ready."

It hasn't even been two hours, but realistically Khalid knows he's not going to improve all that much with more time. The core theory stands even with zero evidence, and actually _proving_ it is impossible without _weeks_ of research.

He's already at the best point he can be.

"Sure," he says, hastily collecting his printouts as he stands. "Do you know anything about the meeting...?"

"Sure. Standard enough JL meeting. Everyone's either going to be in attendance or sending someone on their behalf. It's already started, we've covered the basics, and now everyone's talking about the Titans and debating _that._ Bruce thought your stuff would be a good... side point, basically."

A distraction from the very real question of what they were going to do about the pack of teenagers calling themselves a superhero team, apparently. Khalid can read behind the lines, and he can't fault Bruce for it.

At least he's still getting a chance.

To Khalid's immense surprise, the meeting isn't being held down in the cave. Instead, Jason leads him out to the yard, where a ring of chairs has been set up. There's not even a center table, and if not for the costumes the whole thing could be mistaken for a garden party. They're in the open air, and he can't even _imagine_ the security concerns of just having a meeting out in the open.

Jason goes to join Slade and Bruce as the latter gets to his feet, gesturing to Khalid.

"Everyone, this is Khalid Nassour. He's the Doctor Fate of universe D, and our resident expert on all things magic. He had a theory to bring up about the current state of magic." He pauses, turning to Khalid, and then starts gesturing around the table. Khalid obviously knows who Slade, Jason, Clark, and Diana are, so Bruce skips over them, doing introductions for everyone else. "The man on Diana's right is Steve Trevor, who serves as the representative for the US Government... and ARGUS itself. Beside him is Arthur Curry, Aquaman, who you met in the kitchen earlier. Beside Clark is John Stewart, here in place of Hal Jordan on behalf of the Green Lantern Corps, and he's joined by J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter, as well as Dinah Lance, the Black Canary, who represents Star City and the heroes out that way."

Khalid has to wonder if putting J'onn beside John was intentional, but he hates it already.

The last to be introduced is a red-head sitting just beside Dinah, and the only person who Khalid can't even hope to guess at. As far as he's read, the only member of the Justice League _not_ present is Arsenal, but the man at the table looks too young.

"Also joining us is Wally West, who goes by Kid Flash. He's here on behalf of Central City, and the heroes who work there."

Wally West? Khalid knows what happened to the original Flash (it was impossible to miss in all his readings), but the fact that _Kid Flash_ is there and not Arsenal is... interesting.

He's not about to interrupt the meeting to ask, so he simply lets the presence of someone even younger than he is go unremarked on. Instead, he takes a nice deep breath, steels his nerve, and mentally prepares to present what feels like a college thesis.

"I'm going to assume for the sake of keeping things on an even playing field that most of you don't know much about magic. If you do, some of this is going to be... very basic for you."

Apparently most _don't_ know much about magic, because several people lean forward in their seats. They seem genuinely interested in what he's saying, which is a relief, but it also adds to the pressure.

"All magic, regardless of the method used to enact it, is effectively the same. Someone who waves a magic staff and lights a fire is using the same energy as an Atlantean redirecting a current. When I first arrived here, I was told that this world didn't _have_ magic, or perhaps more accurately that it had so little magic that it was easy to miss. At the time, I accepted that explanation: I figured that yes, there were probably universes with more or less magic than the one I'm familiar with. But as I've learned more about this world, I've come to the conclusion that there's something else going on here, and that's what I wanted to talk about today."

He feels a swell of pride, because they're _all_ paying attention to him. The Justice League—some of the most powerful people on the entire planet—are hanging off his every word.

"I'm sure you all know what a god is, and understand the general concept. Gods and magic have a chicken and the egg problem: were gods created because magic existed, or does magic exist because gods do? It's a complicated, complex problem with no clear answer, but what we _do_ know is that gods and magic are pulling from the same source. They're connected. So when I learned that the Greek gods existed, I was confused: realistically speaking, with how _severely_ diminished magic is here, the gods shouldn't have the kind of presence they do in my world. And yet here I am, having a conversation with a demigod. It shouldn't be possible, and yet it is."

The attention turns to Diana, but she has nothing to say, no counter-argument to present. The gods _do_ exist, and everything he's said is simply the truth: he hasn't yet reached the _speculation_ side of things.

"In the world I come from, various pantheons of gods exist. They primarily derive their power from what I've heard termed _the magic of belief._ That is, people who believe in them give them strength. All signs indicate that this is true here as well: the gods have become less powerful over time because they have less belief."

He can tell that he's losing them, their attention drifting away, so he cuts a few lines from his mental presentation, cutting to the point.

"I think that I—and everyone else—have been looking at the state of magic the wrong way. The gods seem to be roughly as powerful as they were in my own world. They can walk the earth and affect it, but their powers have been reduced by a lack of belief. They don't seem significantly changed by the lack of magic the way that humans are, which makes me think it's something else. So here's my proposal: I don't think that this world inherently has less magic in it. I think this world _should_ have the amount of magic I'd expect, but that something's suppressing it."

Arthur leans to Clark, murmuring something that Khalid can't hear. Bruce's eyebrows press down into a hard, confused line. Diana just looks surprised, her eyebrows shooting up and refusing to go down.

It's J'onn who speaks first.

"I assume you have some degree of evidence that this is true?"

"It's more speculation at this point, but it lines up with the information I've managed to collect. I'll need to gather more information before I could possibly say conclusively, but at the moment it seems very patchwork in terms of what is or isn't affected."

"Patchwork?" Arthur asks.

"Atlantis seems to generate its own magic, which is why Atlanteans still know about it. By comparison, anything that _doesn't_ generate its own magic is... struggling. Magic itself doesn't seem affected, just _latent_ magic. The magic that should be everywhere. The magic that mages like I draw on."

"While this is something we'd have to verify before we get _too_ concerned, the potential there... that something or someone is actively attempting to _suppress_ magic is... alarming," Bruce says, exchanging a glance with Slade. "Do you have any speculation on who or why?"

Khalid shakes his head.

"I don't know enough about the major players in this world to provide any real insight on that. I simply can't think of one single force that could manage to do something so fast, but... I want to figure out who. I want to understand what's happening."

"I think this warrants investigation," Diana says simply, and no one objects, so he continues. "Do you have a proposal for how to look into it...? In this case, you _are_ the expert."

Oh. Well, Khalid wasn't quite expecting to get so far, and now that it's been proposed, he's momentarily at a loss. He has to think on his feet, mentally running through the list of every person who might know what's going on.

"I think speaking the Green's representative would provide some much needed clues."

There's a confused silence, and then J'onn—who is _very_ green—raises an eyebrow. Or eye _ridge,_ since he doesn't actually have brows.

"The Green?"

"I... assumed this universe would still have the Parliaments, but now I'm realizing that was probably a mistaken assumption. In my world there were... numerous elemental forces. The Green, the Red, the Black, the Clear, and so on. Each of those was represented by a parliament, which is... old elementals that have become a hive mind of sorts. They represent..." He's trying desperately to bring things down to an acceptable and easy to understand manner, but the parliaments were never his area of expertise, and it's a case of the blind leading the blind.

"The point is," he says, trying again, "the parliaments of life are a major part of magic, and they each choose an avatar. Do you have Swamp Thing?"

A whole lot of looks are exchanged between the Justice League, and even before anyone says it, Khalid knows that's a _no._

"Well, the first step is going to be figuring out if the Parliaments exist, and if they do, finding their avatars. The Green is probably the most prominent, and controls... well, plant life. Any plant-themed elemental would probably have _some_ kind of connection to the green..."

"Such as Poison Ivy?" Slade suggests, and Khalid is relieved that someone has an idea at all.

"Yes, she was— I mean, she's not a _huge_ connection, but she might know something."

"Sounds like it's worth looking into," Clark agrees. "You can contact her?" He looks to Bruce, and then to Slade, who simply points back to Bruce.

"I can get in touch," Bruce agrees. "I'll see if she'll speak to Khalid, and we can work from there. I'll keep you all up to date on what we learn, if anything."

Khalid's involvement in the meeting is done, and he's happy enough to excuse himself, collecting the papers he didn't show with the evidence he didn't need. It's strange to realize, but he sort of _is_ the authority on all things magic, and he's really not sure how he should feel about that.

If nothing else, _unqualified_ is right at the top of the list. He's used to having a mentor, and suddenly being _in charge_ is deeply uncomfortable.


	27. Chapter 27

Eating dinner with the bats is one thing, but eating dinner with the majority of the Justice League is something else. Even with the authority granted to him by his mantle back in his own world, Khalid was never _anywhere_ near the level of someone like Superman or one of the Green Lanterns. There's a level of reputation that comes with it that he never reached, acting as a behind-the-scenes unknown even in his own city.

Bu he knows he's going to have to get used to it, because Bruce (and his family to a lesser extent) seem blissfully unaware of how strange it is to just ask the Martian Manhunter to pass the salt.

Most of them leave that night, but a few stay over, taking guest rooms near Khalid's. The night is largely uneventful, save for Dexter's attempt to bite John, which results in the cat being once more confined to the bedroom until everyone else is gone.

Khalid destroys his notes and visual aids, and then makes a new set: a simple two page paper outlining what he presented to the League, which he sends on to Bruce in case he needs to send it to anyone else.

Khalid's used to an _academic_ timetable, so when the following morning dawns with the announcement that Bruce has _already talked_ with Pamela Isley is something else.

"Wait, Poison Ivy? Already?" Khalid asks, gawking at Bruce.

"They're friends," Jason explains.

"She delivers our Christmas tree," Damian elaborates, "and then takes it away."

Huh. That was _definitely_ not public knowledge. As far as he knows, Isley is a recluse who makes minimal contact with the outside world.

"That said, I have some League matters to attend to," Bruce admits. "If anyone else would be willing to take Khalid...?" He looks around the table, and Jason offers a shrug.

"I can do it. Don't have any plans. Joey?"

He glances to Joey, who shakes his head before signing his reply. Khalid's sign isn't nearly _fluent,_ but he at least gets the idea: Joey has work and can't make it.

"Alright, just the two of us, then."

It isn't until after they've finished breakfast and are getting ready to leave that Jason decides to clue Khalid in on what's going to happen.

"Pamela lives down where the old Arkham City ruins are. A lot of the ground was... well, poisoned. Lots of toxic dumps and things like that, and it isn't safe to live in anymore. The whole thing is technically a nature preserve that isn't open to the public, but we have an understanding with her and know how to get in contact. She's on good terms with us since Bruce convinced the government to pardon her in exchange for her help."

Khalid slides into the passenger seat of Jason's car, turning the idea over in his head.

"So she's not a... a villain?"

"Not even a little bit. I mean, she _was,_ but she's not anymore. Lots of reformed villains around here."

Khalid's left to dwell on that as they leave the manor, heading down in the direction of Gotham. Rather than heading east towards the city itself, Jason turns away, heading down south along a wide and largely empty stretch of highway.

"I was thinking we could go see Pamela, and then it's a quick drive north to a nice little place I used to go to. You ever had Ethiopian food?"

Khalid blinks. Jason is... taking him out for lunch?

"Yes," he says, answering his question, "just once or twice." He can't quite make himself ask _why,_ so he hopes him staring at Jason gets the idea across.

It doesn't.

"Perfect. We'll stop by there after, and then we can head back to the manor. Works out perfectly."

Jason offers no real explanation for what he had in mind as they head towards the park that makes up old Gotham. The buildings have been overtaken by thick foliage, and it's so heavy that there's no doubt in Khalid's mind that it was _augmented_ by Ivy's powers. The area look like it's been abandoned for half a century at least, and it hasn't been nearly that long. The road is also, notably, completely untouched by the heavy plant life around it. Even in places where it looks like the brush should spread across, it doesn't, making for very easy driving.

"Very under control," Khalid admits, staring out the window.

"One of the terms. She's allowed to grow whatever she wants within her area, but she has to make sure it doesn't encroach on the habitable parts... or the road. She wasn't crazy about the restriction, but was willing to play along."

Jason pulls off the road into a barely-visible parking area. It's similar to the road, but there's also a very clear walking path leading off the corner which Khalid has a sneaking suspicion is going to be where they're heading to.

It is. Jason doesn't seem at all concerned as they climb out of the car, heading straight for the path like it's a perfectly ordinary walking path and not a potential deathtrap by a former supervillain.

Although maybe Khalid shouldn't be so bothered by it. Beyond the fact that Jason obviously isn't, he _does_ live with multiple _former_ supervillains... it's just hard to reconcile Slade and Will as being _Deathstroke-the-supervillain_ while also seeing them cooing over tiny babies.

Really, the whole thing is just weird.

If not for the constant lingering feeling of dread hanging over them, Khalid would probably enjoy the walk. The path is clear and well-trod, an easy walk with interesting scenery. There's an absolutely _massive_ variety of plants within sight, and the urge to investigate some of them keeps cropping up despite his intention to stick close to Jason. 

"She likes to make us walk," Jason complains, and he isn't kidding: they walk for a good ten or fifteen minutes in relative silence before there's any change at all, and even then that's only the fact that the path goes from worn dirt to cracked cement.

When Khalid spots a building in the way of the path, he hopes they're reaching the end, and to his relief they are. The building is little more than the outer wall, the roof having collapsed inward at some point. There's a massive tree in the middle, and resting against the trunk is Poison Ivy herself.

Only Khalid almost misses her completely, only noticing when Jason stops and clears his throat.

The woman he remembers was a gorgeous red head who tended to wear plants for clothes, but the woman in front of him is most definitely _not_ that. She's, for one, largely green. For another, he's not entirely sure she's even a _person._

Her hair texture's all wrong, more like a willow's leaves in the fall than human hair. Her skin's a strange, unhealthy _green_ look, and what looks like literal plants either growing on it or... as part of it, maybe.

She's also not wearing any clothes, and Khalid averts his eyes as fast as he can to avoid seeing something he shouldn't.

"Ivy," Jason calls, apparently used to her... _appearance._ "Hopefully everything's going alright here?"

"That would depend," she calls back. "Did you execute that CEO I asked you to?"

What.

"I'm going to assume you meant _prosecute,_ in which case yes. It was in the news, not that you'd read the newspaper."

Khalid sneaks a peak and realizes that he's been avoiding looking at her for no reason. He genuinely can't tell if she's covered in such a way that hides anything unmentionable or if she just doesn't _have_ anything unmentionable. It probably doesn't matter either way.

"You're right," she replies, a sly smile on her face. That, at least, still looks predominantly human. "Or else I would no doubt know who the stranger you brought into my grove is."

That's his cue. Rather than letting Jason introduce him, Khalid swallows his anxieties and takes a step forward, leveling his gaze at Ivy.

"My name is Khalid Nassour. I'm one of the arrivals from... Universe-D, if you're familiar with that." From what Jason said she wasn't the _newspaper_ type, but that doesn't mean she's completely oblivious.

Her coy smile doesn't give him any answers, so he simply forges along.

"I'm currently investigating a matter that's of interest to... to Bruce Wayne-Wilson and his family, and I was hoping I could ask you some questions about your powers."

She's definitely amused by the line of questioning, and Khalid _really_ isn't sure what to make of that. He feels terribly out of his element, so he just tries to pretend like Pamela Isley is a particularly strict professor and not someone who could kill him in a blink.

"Let me guess," she says, "you want to know how I got them?"

Oh, is _that_ why she was so skeptical?

"Oh, no," he says quickly. "Not at all. I wanted to ask more about the nature of your powers. ...Pun unintentional."

Ivy raises one slim eyebrow and leans forward slightly. As Khalid watches, the tree she's sitting on seems to _warp,_ growing to support her new position. Seeing a tree grow in real time is a unique and absolutely bizarre experience, and Khalid has to tear his eyes away to focus on Ivy herself.

"The nature of my powers? I control plants. I assume what you want is more complicated then that, though."

Once again he's faced with the same problem he had before: depending on how he asks, he'll skew the results. If he just asks _are you connected to the Green?_ there's no guarantee he'll get the real answer, so he has to be a lot more wary than he'd like to be.

He needs the _real_ answers.

"I understand you can... feel what plants feel? Could you elaborate?"

"You remind me of a scientist," she says, and Khalid can't tell if that's a good thing or not.

"I am— _was_ a medical student," he clarifies. "So that's my background."

She stands, walking towards him suddenly, and Khalid fights the urge to back up, holding his ground. She stops just in front of him, looking him over approvingly.

"Go on."

"I was hoping you'd explain how your... plant empathy works."

"Mmm... I suppose I could do that. I can tell what a plant is feeling simply by being close to it. When they're hurt, when they're pleased... Their emotional state is a great deal simpler then a humans. Easier to understand."

Khalid doesn't think plants are genuinely _happy,_ but he supposes that having all their needs met would translate easily enough to human emotions. It's interesting, and the sort of thing he'd love to investigate, but right then he has larger issues to deal with.

"Only in a short range?"

Ivy's smile has an edge to it when she responds.

"If I had a significant enough range, I doubt I would still be here, on good terms with the Bat and his people. I allow myself to remain here—to keep the truce—because I know that he continues to do my work for me in a much less direct but far more effective manner than I ever could."

Like the CEO she mentioned earlier, he assumes.

"But if I could reach out... if I could feel, say, _all of Gotham..._ Well, I don't think anyone would stop me from doing what needed to be done."

Which Khalid can only assume means _murdering everyone in the city._

He swallows, trying not to let his nerves show.

"So there's no... grander... feeling? Connection? Hive mind of plants?"

She's already said _no,_ so there's no harm in making absolutely sure.

Ivy shakes her head, and Khalid nods, shuffling backwards quickly.

"Thank you for answering my questions. You've been very helpful."

No Green, or at least a vastly weakened Green with fewer avatars. Either way, it adds more credence to his theory.

"Well, we should get going," Jason says. "If you need anything, you know where to find us." He places a hand on Khalid's shoulder, pulling him back and starting to steer him towards the exit. They're nearly out of the building when Ivy calls out, and the two of them stop short.

"Jason. I do hope you'll come visit again soon."

She offers a brief wave, and Jason pauses, staring back at her for a long moment.

"I will," he says finally. "I'll see you again soon."

Khalid hopes Jason doesn't ask him to come along.


	28. Chapter 28

Khalid doesn't want to go back.

Something about Ivy—about the way she talks, about the way she moves—is deeply unsettling to him, and as they settle in at the restaurant and flick through menus the feeling won't quite go away.

Apparently, though, it's just him. Jason doesn't seem at all that bothered as he orders his food, settling in to eat before Khalid manages to put his concerns into actual words.

"Is she... always like that?"

"Oh, more or less," Jason replies, letting the waitress drop their drinks off before he continues. "She's been getting a bit less human over time, if that's what you mean."

"The... green skin?"

"More the texture. She's been green since I knew her. Was she not green in your world?"

Khalid's actually not entirely sure Ivy's actaully _dead_ in his world. He knows that Gotham was taken over by a forest, which was almost definitely her, but what the state of those inside it was like...

"No, not green," he confirms. "Mostly a human with plant powers, from what I understand."

"A human with the connection to this Green thing, yeah?"

Khalid nods, and when Jason's eyebrow goes up expectantly he elaborates.

"This Ivy not being connected doesn't guarantee the Green doesn't exist. It might just be weaker. But it _is_ a major clue that we're on the right track."

He's going to need a lot more evidence before he calls it confirmed, but it's encouraging to get some solid evidence. The apparent lack of a Swamp Thing, Ivy's lack of connection... It all points one direction, but _confirming_ it is going to be hard.

"Ivy isn't... well, I want to say she's not _that bad,_ but that's sort of a lie," Jason explains, twiddling with his cutlery. "She likes Bruce because so long as she behaves, he'll keep litigating on behalf of the environment. Plus, lots of people are starting to see her as more of a hero then a villain, so... well, she's got no reason _not_ to sit tight and watch the tides change."

"Is she?"

Jason's mid-sip and makes a confused _mph?_

"Is she more of a hero than a villain?"

Jason sets his glass down, shaking his head, and Khalid feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up, glancing around. No one's obviously staring at them, and after a moment he looks back to Jason.

"She's a villain, period." His voice is firm, completely serious despite how relaxed he's been for most of the trip. "People think she's a true environmentalist, the avatar of nature and all that, but... well, for one, she's not. Pamela cares about _plants,_ period. Full stop. Everyone knows she's not a fan of humans and would get rid of us if she had the chance, but she feels the same way about animals. A logger clear-cutting the woods would get the same reaction from her as a beaver chewing through a tree. Both cases are something hurting a plant, and she'll act accordingly. Letting her stay where she is might mean that area is livable by humans at some point, and she's a valued ally if the chips are down, but one day..."

Jason pauses, swirling his drink around for a moment.

"One day we're going to have to pay the price for it."

One day, a reckoning is going to come. Even though Jason doesn't explain any further, it doesn't matter: Khalid knows what he means. She'll go rogue or be turned against them or step over the line, and then they'll have to deal with her.

And the whole time, she'll have been getting stronger.

Their food arrives, and Khalid tries to ignore the feeling of being stared at. It doesn't look like anyone actually is, but the second time he glances around Jason addresses it.

"Don't worry about it."

"Hn?"

"You're with me, which means you're _always_ going to have people sneaking peaks." Jason's simply resigned to it, and doesn't even seem actually bothered. Khalid definitely is: he hates the feeling of being spied on. "You'll get used to it when you go out with us."

"Kind of hope I don't," Khalid mutters, and Jason shoots him a smile as they get to eating. 

When the conversation starts up again, it's something a lot more mild, and Khalid lets himself relax. Outside of how creepy he finds Ivy, the day hasn't actually been so bad. The food's good, Jason's nice company, and by the time they make it back to the house, Khalid is feeling actually _happy_ with himself.

Which means he needs to strike while the iron is hot.

Khalid retires to his room almost the moment they get home, and bustles around setting things up. He doesn't have much actual _stuff_ (something he knows he'll have to address at some point), but it's not as if the Helmet of Fate wasn't an insanely powerful magical artifact recently. He places it across from him, planting a candle in between the two of them, and then lets his mind go blank.

Saying things backwards isn't going to work. That isn't _him._ That's not how it works. Instead, he reaches out, opening his senses and letting himself _feel._

Letting himself _react._

"Thoth," he says quietly, "I don't know if you know me. I don't know if there's one Thoth or many. But I... I served you, back in my world. I dedicated myself to making things right, even if it cost me." His eyes drift closed as he reaches out, cupping his hands around the tip of the candle. His breathing is perfect, drilled into him by Kent a dozen times over, but what he's saying isn't anything planned or practiced. It isn't a prayer; it's a conversation, speaking his intent to the world and seeing what answers.

He can imagine him perfectly: taller than any man could ever be, the head of an ibis on his shoulders. He'd held his staff in one hand, and Khalid... Well, Khalid didn't have that, but he could _imagine_ it.

 _The blood of the pharaohs_ still ran in his veins, after all.

"Help me."

That's what he needs: help. He's never had to do magic alone. He's always had someone there with him, helping him through it, whether that was Nabu or his uncle or someone else.

And now he has no one. He's alone.

But maybe not completely.

"Help me."

There's warmth between his palms, and when Khalid opens his eyes, there's a small flame flickering on the tip of the candle.

It's lit itself just like magic.


	29. Chapter 29

Managing to make a flame that could be replicated by any match in the world shouldn't be an accomplishment, and yet it sort of _is._ It's the first bit of magic he's managed to do entirely on his own, and first true sign that he's still _actually magic._

Not the helmet: him.

So he lets himself celebrate. When Will asks what's got him so perky, he tells him the truth: he finally managed a (weak) bit of magic.

Will's apparently looking for an excuse, because that night he makes a _massive_ spread of food for everyone to eat. Khalid eats enough that he actually sleeps in the following day, and lets himself officially take the day off.

Maybe he's getting complacent, but he needed the win, as pathetic as it was.

There's one thing that still needs to be handled, though, and he only gets to it late that evening, when Bruce leans into the library.

"I realized I never asked you what the results were," he mentions, coming inside and taking one of the other seats. "With Ivy, I mean."

"She doesn't have any connection to the Green. So either the Green doesn't exist, or it's so weak that it either doesn't have a champion, or has to be a lot more picky. In my world it had one _champion_ and then multiple people connected to it..."

"The champion was the... Swamp Thing?"

Khalid nods. He doesn't know much about him, really, which is unfortunate. It's not as if he can just look him up.

"I looked him up," Bruce says, catching Khalid off guard. "We have a database from Universe-B. Information they provided to help us out. He was included in that. Apparently his real name was Alec Holland, so I looked it up. He was easy to find, but only because he's already passed away."

"I'm pretty sure that Swamp Thing was... well, also passed away."

"That was the implication of his file, yes. That he died and was chosen as the avatar. But there's no indication of that. Alec was killed in an explosion—actually one I investigated myself, due to the suspicious circumstances."

Khalid expects there to be more to it, and of course there is.

"His employer had him killed because he'd learned too much. Everyone involved was arrested, and that's where the story ends. No mysterious green plant monster."

So no Swamp Thing, probably.

"We can probably scratch him off the list," Khalid says. "If he does exist, he's been subtle enough we aren't likely to find him if we go looking. I think—"

Someone knocks at the library's open door, drawing their attention, and Khalid turns to find Slade standing there.

"Am I interrupting?"

"No," Bruce says quickly. "I was talking with Khalid about what he learned from Ivy so that I can report it at the meeting tomorrow."

"Hopefully something good?" Slade asks, looking to Khalid.

Khalid can't decide if it's good or not. Not having the Green is... _complicated,_ so he simply shrugs.

"Well, if you're not doing anything time-sensitive right now, I need to borrow my husband for a moment."

 _A moment_ turns out to be the rest of the night, and the following day half the house has a League meeting to attend. They plan to remote in, but do so in privacy, leaving those who _aren't_ included to eat breakfast together.

Khalid's struggling through a purely-sign conversation with Joey when Alfred arrives bearing the morning paper.

"I can only assume that Master Bruce has yet to have a chance to inform you," he says, "or quite possibly has yet to notice, as the news isn't particularly prominent. However, you've made the news."

Alfred flips to one of the inner pages, folding the newspaper neatly before holding it out for Khalid to take. The picture is one of he and Jason together, eating food two days before, and while he isn't identified by name, it's a clear enough picture.

Khalid feels sick as he skims through the article. Nothing about it is negative, but it does (correctly) speculate that he's one of those from Universe-D, mentioning an old theory that one of them had moved in with the Wayne-Wilsons.

For all the attention Khalid had paid to things, he'd paid almost none to _himself._ He hadn't realized that people thought that, and he's alarmed to realize how much they know.

 _You should see online,_ Joey signs, making a point to go slower to let Khalid keep up. _Half the sites think you and Jason are having an affair._

Khalid doesn't actually know the sign for _affair,_ but context clues make it pretty clear.

"We're not," he blurts, signs be damned. "Really—"

Joey just laughs. It's a weird, nearly-silent gesture, but just from the way he moves and his expression it's clear enough that's what he's doing.

 _I'm not worried,_ he signs clearly. _I trust Jason, and I know what you were doing out there. Those kinds of sites..._

Khalid loses track of what he's saying, but he gets the idea: Joey isn't holding it against him that at least _some_ portion of Gotham's population think Khalid and Jason are involved.

Which is a relief, even if Khalid really wishes that _absolutely no one_ thought that. Jason's nice, but he's definitely not Khalid's type, _and_ he's already taken.

And, in Khalid's opinion, it would just be weird anyway.

When Bruce emerges from his office with Slade and Jason an hour later, Khalid gets the truth: he'd simply missed it.

"I had a search set up for your name," Bruce mutters as he goes over the article, "but Jason's in the news too regularly for a simple filter to work. Only _big_ news stories get my attention these days."

And some speculation about who Khalid might be isn't big.

"Not a big deal," Will says offhand, sliding some food towards the League members. "Now sit down and eat."

Bruce does, but Slade has other plans.

"League wanted to know what the next step is," he asks Khalid, ignoring that Will is literally forcing Slade down into the chair and sliding food in front of him. "You've looked into this Green stuff, but what's next?"

Khalid has no answer for him. He'd been too elated getting his magic to work: figuring out what came next had been a distant second as far as concerns went.

"Let me rephrase for him," Jason cuts in. "If you were back on your world, who would have been the person you'd talk to about this? Is it possible they exist here?"

Khalid had two teachers who walked him through his understanding of magic, and his brain ping-pongs between the two, unable to make up his mind. Nabu was his first teacher, the one who taught him how to use the helmet, but his uncle was the one who guided him where Nabu had failed.

"...Either Nabu or Kent Nelson," he says rather than picking between the two of them. "Nabu probably doesn't exist, and the other..." He hesitates for a long moment, stomach churning. "I would prefer not to address him. I don't want to... to cross things over."

"You said he was your uncle at one point?" Will asks, just to make sure, and Khalid answers with a nod.

"We can hold off on that," Slade says, "pursue other options, where they're available. Diana said she was going to try and talk to the _powers that be_ and see what they had to say about the whole thing."

Maybe he won't have to go any farther... but Khalid doubts it.

He's never been even half that lucky.


	30. Chapter 30

There's absolutely no chance that Khalid will be able to focus on magic, so he simply doesn't. There's other things he can do, things that will distract him a great deal more thoroughly then sitting in his room staring at a candle.

By the time the immediate shock of _you are literally newsworthy and people think you're hooking up with Jason_ passes, Khalid's settled out in the back yard, enjoying the summer sun while brushing up on his sign. While originally it was Thomas being taught by Thad and Damian, when Khalid joined they rapidly split off. Thad's still helping Thomas fumble through the basics, while Damian's working Khalid through a slightly more advanced lesson. He knows the alphabet and general sentence structure, but his vocabulary is lacking and there's not a flash card in the world that's going to get him up to date the way Damian signing at him and making him guess will.

Titus is out there with them, resting against Damian's knee, and any time Khalid gets it correct he wags so hard he whacks Damian's side, reacting to Damian's far more controlled excitement.

Khalid's just worked out _mission_ and is guessing at something that might be _cow_ when Damian's eyes flick over his shoulder, looking at something behind Khalid, and his expression darkens. Khalid forgets what he's doing, twisting around to look behind him.

Slade's coming across the lawn, Alfred at his side. His expression is dark and focused, promising nothing but misery to come, and Khalid swallows down the sudden spike of anxiety that blocks his throat.

Something bad has either happened or is about to happen. Khalid likes neither.

"What's going on?" Thad blurts, apparently thinking along the same lines as Khalid himself. He's not the only one reacting with anxiety: Damian gets to his feet before Khalid can even turn back towards him, and Thomas is in the process of getting up as well, practice forgotten.

"You can all sit back down," Slade calls, but the way his eyes fall to Khalid do nothing to calm Khalid's worries. "I just need to borrow Khalid for a bit."

He tries not to speculate. He tries, with all his power, to not think about what it could be.

But it's impossible.

"There's nothing to be worried about," Alfred says, doing a much better job of calming the situation than Slade. Khalid realizes almost immediately that Alfred is only there to stay with Thad and Damian, making sure they don't follow him up to the house. He is, in essence, their babysitter, which means that whatever is happening, the _adults_ want Damian and Thad to be away from it.

"Please tell me what's going on," Khalid all but begs as he walks with Slade back to the house. Slade's expression is grim, but beyond that reveals very little. 

"Wait until we get to the house," Slade says, and that only makes Khalid move that much faster. He's been through the end of the world: he shouldn't feel as nervous as he does.

What could it even be, after all? How could it possibly get any worse?

He finds out the moment the door clicks shut behind them.

"Someone's here to see you."

 _Someone._ Not a name. Just _someone._ Someone who they wouldn't turn away immediately the way they would with the press or anything like that. Deep down, Khalid knows who it's going to be, and yet somehow the reality is even worse when Slade steps over to a security panel, pulling up one of the camera feeds with a few quick taps.

There's a car sitting in the manor's driveway, and even with the limited camera angle, Khalid knows who's inside. Deep down, he feared that it would be his counterpart, his doppelganger come a knocking to demand to know what's going on.

The fact that it's his father is so much worse.

In his own world, his father had been older when he had him. Khalid remembers him in his sixties, his hairline receding but with hardly more than a hint of grey. The man in the car (a _real_ car, not the taxi cab Khalid is so used to seeing his father in) looks a few years older. There's more grey in his hair, and he looks more strained. Maybe he's always like that, or maybe he only looks so distressed because he's just driven all the way from New York to Gotham to find out why his son's counterpart from another dimension has never reached out.

"Oh," Khalid says quietly, staring at the image. His father, but not _his_ father. The father of another Khalid. Older than Khalid's own father ever got to be.

Slade's hand settles on his shoulder, a firm, comforting weight.

"I could tell him to leave," he offers. He doesn't say anything beyond that, letting the offer remain open.

He could. He could send him away.

But Khalid knows he'd never forgive himself.

"No. I... should speak with him."

 _Should_ isn't a strong enough word. _Must_ is more like it. He needs to speak with him. Needs to know. 

He doesn't even know what it is he needs to know, but he needs to know it anyway.

Slade handles things from there. He buzzes the car in, heading up to the front of the house to greet him there.

Khalid drifts behind him, lost in his own thoughts. It's a constant downward spiral, impossible to sort out his feelings. The man coming to the door is his father, but he's also not. He's familiar, but also a stranger. The fact that it's just him—just his father, rather than his mother or Khalid himself coming along—feels important, and yet he can't figure out why.

Really, right then he doesn't want to see him at all. He wants to freeze time and take a few hours to process things, but he can't just ask the man—a stranger, in a way—to hang out on his doorstep while he gets himself under control.

He paces as Slade handles security, trying not to listen in to what's happening. Trying to think and not think at the same time.

"Khalid."

The blood drains from his face as his head snaps up, turning to face the main in the doorway.

Slade's standing just behind him, absolutely _looming_ over the poor man, who isn't paying him even the slightest bit of attention. His focus is entirely on Khalid, and the sentiment is mutual.

Khalid _almost_ says dad, but bites his lip at the last moment. The Muhammed Nassour in front of him _isn't_ his father. He's the father to a different Khalid, and he needs to keep reminding himself of that fact, over and over again.

"It is you, isn't it?" His father ( _not_ his father, he reminds himself again) says as he walks over to him. His expression is soft, almost relieved. "When I saw the picture, I thought... well, you look just like yourself. Impossible not to recognize you."

It hurts.

"I don't know what to say," Khalid forces out. He really doesn't. What could he even say? What could possibly express every twisted, screwed up emotion he's feeling right then?

It turns out the correct answer is _nothing at all._ Muhammed steps forward, pulling Khalid into a hug, and Khalid, for all his mental oaths that he won't, breaks down immediately.

Whether or not Muhammed is his _real_ father, he feels just like it anyway.


	31. Chapter 31

Slade is many things, but right then _helpful_ isn't one of them. He circles like an overgrown hawk, fretting obviously without clearly intervening. It's like he _knows_ something's wrong, but lacking an obvious way to solve it he's left making a nuisance of himself.

Muhammed simply ignores him, patting at Khalid's back and comforting him in a way that feels deeply familiar. He guides Khalid over seemingly without even looking, and then eases the pair of them down onto a seat, letting Khalid rest against him as he gets all the tears out.

Eventually he simply runs out. He can't manage to cry any longer, his eyes dry and the sickly-painful feeling of having cried too much settling in.

He wants to sleep, but instead he knows he'll have to _talk._

"I don't know where to start," Khalid mumbles, his voice sounding painfully cracked. He doesn't even realize that Slade's left the room until he's suddenly _back,_ slipping a glass of water into Khalid's hand. Khalid accepts it wordlessly, downing in three long gulps and feeling a great deal more alive for having done so. "I don't even know what you know."

"Enough to guess," Muhammed confirms. "They said your world was a bad one. A dark one. That you all escaped here, and that you would be treated as refugees."

"My world..." He hesitates, unsure of how much he wants to burden him with, and then tries to be as gentle as possible. "My world was lost. There was... a virus. People became infected and died. Those of us that came managed to escape, but those that were left behind are all gone."

His father is a smart man, and Khalid trusts him to read between the lines. The fact that Khalid is there in the manor _without_ anyone else that Muhammed knows should answer everything for him.

Apparently content that Khalid isn't going to burst into tears again, Slade excuses himself, leaving the two of them to be alone.

Khalid can't decide if he likes that or not. Everything just feels too _real._

Too hard to process.

"When I saw your picture, I called my son to ask why he was in Gotham, and he told me he'd never _been_ to Gotham. I knew he wouldn't lie to me, but it still took quite some time to work out what was going on. By that point, your— _his_ mother had already seen the photos on her own. We had to sit down and talk it out before I could come, which is why I took so long."

It hasn't even been twelve hours, so Khalid can't imagine describing it as _taking a long time._

"We agreed it would be best if just one of us came, and your mother had work."

Muhammed keeps slipping up, equating Khalid with his son. _Your_ mother, not _my sons_ mother. Khalid loves it and hates it at the same time, and his hands fold together in his lap, squeezing as he tries to focus.

It hurts talking to him, so Khalid tries to get straight to the point. The things that _really_ matter.

"I knew me being here would... complicate things for you, and I'm sure your Khalid is probably trying hard to focus on his education. I don't want me being here to ruin that for him."

Muhammed does not look impressed. If anything, he looks almost _annoyed,_ which isn't a reaction Khalid's expecting.

"Am I expected to believe that?" Muhammed says simply, leaving Khalid reeling with the implications.

What's _that_ supposed to mean?

"I... don't understand."

Muhammed shakes his head, sitting upright before explaining.

"I may have only just met you, but I know my son. He wouldn't avoid people who might as well be family to him to make sure it didn't _impact someone's grades._ He knows that as important as academics are, grades are just numbers on a page. He would want to help, and he would, without question, be upset that someone was avoiding asking for help over something as foolish as that."

He's right.

He's right and Khalid wishes he wasn't.

He drops his gaze down, and his father's (because no matter how Khalid denies it, it's impossible to separate the two in his head) voice softens.

"There's another reason why you chose to stay away."

There is, but he doesn't want to say it. Saying it out loud makes it more _real,_ and that's the last thing he wants.

But he knows his father won't be so easily dissuaded. He's a stubborn man, and with something so high-stakes, _I don't want to talk about it_ likely won't be enough. Khalid rubs his hands together in his lap, his nerves obvious, but his father simply waits, letting him take his time to figure out what he wants to say.

"It... hurts seeing you," he admits after a while. The other Khalid isn't an issue; his parents, on the other hand, absolutely are. If the other Khalid's father is an indication, his mother must look similar, and the mental image of the two of them, standing together with their son is almost too much for him.

Khalid doesn't look up to see the reaction his confession gets, but he can imagine. His father would never mean to hurt him and he'd never mean to hurt any _other_ Khalid either. He's a quiet, peaceful man. A man with nothing but good intentions, who a lifetime ago took an oath to _do no harm._

Metaphorically, anyway. Khalid doesn't know if he ever actually took any such oath, but it's the idea of the thing.

"I understand," Muhammed says simply. "If I lost my family, seeing another version of them would be... extremely painful. I can understand why you'd prefer to stay away."

Even with his eyes down, it's impossible to miss when Muhammed leans forward, taking Khalid's hands in his own and giving them a squeeze.

"You may not be my son, but you are still family to us, Khalid. If there's anything you need, or anything we can do to help, you only need to ask. I'm sure the Wayne-Wilson's are treating you kindly, but I know you well enough to know how reluctant you are to ask for help when you should be able to handle things on your own."

Khalid can't help it—he breaks down again, the tears heavy as he leans forward, trying to get himself back under control. It would be so much easier if this Muhammed was less like his father. If the man before him didn't speak his father's words with his father's voice.

Muhammed sits with Khalid in silence, still holding his hand, a constant reminder that he isn't alone.

It takes time for him to come back to himself, pulling his hands away just to wipe at his face. He probably looks like an absolute mess, and when he manages to speak his voice sounds painfully cracked.

"Thank you. But... I'm okay here."

"There's nothing I can do to help?"

Muhammed is right: Khalid's been overly hesitant to ask for help, even when it would do everyone a great deal of good. He hesitates, running through his options, and then decides that when presented with a treasure chest, all he can do is open it.

"I need to get in contact with my uncle."

Muhammed makes a noise of surprise.

"You certainly don't mean mine—" Dead twenty years, so certainly not. "—on your mother's side? Kent Nelson?"

"That's him."

"Can I ask why?"

For a moment, Khalid considers secrecy. Being discreet about things.

But there's really no point. There's nothing to be gained with playing coy about it, considering there's a very good chance that either Kent Nelson isn't magical at all, or is so magical he's barely even aware of it.

"In my world, he was one of the most powerful mages in the world. I'm trying to understand why this world doesn't have magic."

"You were a... a mage?" Muhammed asks. He seems surprised, a clear mirror to when Khalid's own father found out the truth.

"Yes. I was... I went by Doctor Fate. I could do magic, and Kent taught me. He was my mentor."

"Did he come with you?"

The last moments of _his_ Kent Nelson flash behind his eyes, and Khalid squeezes his eyes shut, taking a deep breath.

"...No."

Muhammed doesn't push, and Khalid's immensely thankful for it.

"Well, the last time I heard from him, he was just an archaeologist like your mother, but I suppose he might not tell us the truth without reason. I could give you his contact information, though—he teaches down in Boston."

Boston. He could make the drive there in a day. It would be a quick and easy trip, any time he wants.

"I'll... call him," he promises. "Thank you."

"I'll leave my number too," Muhammed adds. "Even if you might want space now, that doesn't mean you'll want it forever. If you ever wan to talk, you can always call, and we can go from there."

 _Still family_ rings in Khalid's head, impossible to ignore.

Maybe he isn't alone after all.


	32. Chapter 32

Muhammed doesn't stay much longer. He has things to do, a life to get back to. But before he leaves, he makes a point of pulling Khalid into another hug at the door, holding him tight and giving him a somber goodbye.

"Be safe, Khalid. I know your time here will be anything but, but still be careful."

"I will."

Muhammed hugs him again, and then its time to go.

The moment the door is closed, the exhaustion hits Khalid like a train. He's weary down to his bones, exhausted beyond reason, and before any of the Wayne-Wilsons can pull him into a serious conversation about his _feelings_ he asks for privacy and excuses himself to his room.

He wants to sleep, but he's not sure he'll be so lucky.

He turns out to be half right: it takes more than an hour for him to fall asleep, and when he does it's _barely_ sleep. He falls in and out of it, unable to get some decent rest, and when the door clicks open and then clicks shut, it's enough to tell him that there's probably no point in trying to stay asleep at all.

Khalid cracks his eye open to see who's arrived to check on him, and is genuinely surprised to find Thad peeking at him from the door.

"Oh, you are awake," Thad says quickly, and then zips right over to stand by the side of Khalid's bed. Khalid makes a muffled noise, rolling onto his back, and squints up at Thad in confusion.

Really, he'd expected Slade. If not Slade, then... well, a lot of people came before Thad on his mental list. Thomas. Bruce. Will. Jason. Joey. Heck, even _Alfred._

Thad, on the other hand, doesn't even really rate. They haven't interacted much, and Thad...

Well, he's a nice kid. Khalid doesn't really have anything bad to say about him. But he's also a _kid,_ barely fourteen and often feeling even younger. His presence in Khalid's room when Khalid expected an adult coming to give him a pep talk feels extremely strange, to the point where Khalid props himself up, squinting at Thad openly.

"Are you supposed to be in here?"

"Of course not," Thad admits, and then in a flash—moving so quickly Khalid registers that Thad's gone and then that he isn't—Thad's back with a chair, taking a seat.

Khalid sits up, because he's not having a conversation with him sprawled out on the bed, and raises an eyebrow at Thad, waiting for an explanation.

"Did they tell you about me at all?"

Khalid's heard only a few statements he'd consider more vague then that one, so he simply keeps on staring, waiting for an explanation that makes some kind of sense.

"I mean like, where I came from? Stuff like that."

"You're from the future. You also said you were a clone. Sent back in time to stop the Kryptonian invasion, right?"

Not exactly the most complete story, but it wasn't as if Bruce had put out a press release to explain things. What Khalid knows is just what he picked up from his readings, having not had an actual _conversation_ about it.

"Nope," Thad says, swinging his legs. He's small; the chair's too big for him.

"Is being cryptic something that comes with the house, or is it a Wilson thing?" Khalid grumbles. He doesn't have nearly as much patience as he probably should. Right then he just wants to _sleep,_ and he knows he probably isn't going to get any. He just really wishes Thad would get to the point.

"I know this is probably all going to seem like it's unrelated, but I have a point, if you'll listen to it," Thad starts, which is _not_ a good start by any metric. "I am a clone, and I am from the future, but I wasn't sent back to stop the Kryptonian invasion. I was sent back to ensure it happened correctly. My _brother_ was the one who was supposed to stop it."

Thad's emphasis on _brother_ throw's Khalid off, and he's not sure what to make of it, but he's a bit too focused on the fact that Thad is... what, evil? Formerly evil?

Khalid manages a non-committal _mmm_ in response, unsure of what to say.

"They made Bart using the DNA of the original flash, because they needed a speedster to go back in time and stop the end of the world as we know it. The invasion was the point where everything went wrong, so they wanted to change that. Only the Kryptonians made _me,_ and they sent me farther back, so that I'd be here for months by the time Bart arrived. So I could turn everyone against him, and convince them that they should listen to me, not him."

Oh. It's a _lot,_ and when Khalid makes a noise of acknowledgement, it's a lot more genuine the second time around.

"It worked. I got here first. I told them I was Bart. I was a part of the team, and it was... hard, I guess. Every time someone praised me, they were saying _his_ name. I was an impostor, even if the accomplishments were my own. It felt... wrong. So when Bart did show up, rather than keeping up the charade, I ran away. Will found me, and he helped me accept that I didn't _want_ everyone to die. That I didn't want the Kryptonians to take over. So we stopped them together."

It's an interesting story, and Khalid's happy to know it (there's some _much_ needed context there he's not sure he'd have gotten elsewhere), but he's genuinely unclear as to why it's being brought up right then. It doesn't seem particularly... _connected,_ to say the least.

"But that was almost the easy part. Not because it was _easy,_ but because... well, I had a team. Friends. People who had my back. But after, that all... well, that changed. Bart and I are identical twins, and even though we'd literally never met, every time I looked at him it was just a reminder that I wasn't supposed to be there. A lot of people thought we should be _brothers,_ that we should just get along, but it hurt just looking at him. I dyed my hair—" He reaches up, dragging his fingers through his hair to show Khalid his scalp, where his dark brown roots are showing. "—to look less like him. I thought... I thought blond would make me look more like I was Will's son, so I was really happy when you thought I was."

Khalid had forgotten about that, but looking back, it makes sense: Thad _had_ seemed extremely happy being identified as Will's son first and foremost.

But all those details are starting to fill in the picture, and all at once Khalid gets why Thad's telling him about it: because Khalid too is faced with dealing with someone who looks just like him. Someone who is the _real_ him.

The feeling that not just is he a double, but that _he's_ the double who shouldn't be there. The one who doesn't belong.

"You still called him your brother," Khalid points out.

"I think... I mean, I don't have _experience_ with it, but I think we're brothers the way that Damian and Tim are brothers. They see each other, and they're part of the same family, but they never lived in the same house. They don't have the kind of relationship that Damian and Jason have. It's the same for me and Bart, but he... he really wants to be brothers, so I thought it wouldn't hurt if I called us that."

For a moment, Thad looks so small and vulnerable that Khalid can't help but feel a stab of pity for him.

He looks so lost.

"But it's okay," Thad says quickly. "I have Will and Joey and Damian and everyone. Everyone here's my family." He smiles, but he's obviously putting on a brave face, pushing away the nerves. "That's why I wanted to talk to you. Because... I feel like everyone would tell you to go live with the other Khalid, but I wanted to... to tell you that you didn't have to. It's okay to want to stay away."

"You're a good kid, Thad."

Apparently the compliment doesn't quite do what Khalid intended, because Thad goes bright red all the way to his ears, flustered beyond reason.

"This isn't that kind of talk!" Thad protests. "I'm supposed to be giving _you_ a pep talk."

Khalid smiles at him, trying not to feel _too_ amused by the reaction.

"Thanks. I mean that. It's... comforting to know I'm not the only one going through something so _weird."_

The situation is unusual, to say the least. It's not as if the average person is going to be able to relate _at all_ to what he's going through.

But Thad can, bizarrely enough.

"I should get back before anyone notices I'm gone," Thad says, standing up quickly. "I wasn't supposed to come in here. Bruce said we should give you some space, but I... wanted to tell you all that. So you knew it wasn't just you."

"Thanks," he says again, and Thad gives him a quick nod before zipping to the door. He stares back at Khalid a moment longer, and then he's gone, the door opening and closing as fast as Khalid can blink.

Thad's got one thing wrong, though: one way or another, Will _is_ going to find out.


	33. Chapter 33

Khalid's starving by the time dinner rolls around, and the hunger is enough to pull him out of his room. He's missed lunch entirely, and no one comments on his absence as he settles in at the table, halfway ravenous as he digs in.

Thad won't make eye contact with him, and when dinner wraps up and Will sends Thad straight to bed, Khalid can guess why.

"Figured it out, did you?" Khalid asks. There's no venom in his words; he's not angry that Thad snuck in. Really, if he had any say, Thad wouldn't be punished at all, but he also is well aware that it isn't his call.

"He confessed," Will says as he clears the table. "Kid's got a guilty conscience."

Everyone else is leaving, and Will's handling the table, so it strikes Khalid as deeply odd when Bruce stays sitting, fixing Khalid with a look that's probably intended to be friendly, but with how exhausted Khalid is instead promises that there's more trouble on the horizon.

"I called the office that Muhammed gave us the number for," Bruce says conversationally, and it takes longer than it should for Khalid to make the connection and realize he's talking about Kent Nelson. "He keeps normal office hours during the week, so you should be able to go fairly easily. He's not on vacation or anything like that."

Khalid manages a noncommittal _hmmm,_ unwilling to commit right then. "I was thinking about calling."

"You could call," Bruce agrees, "but I assumed you'd want to talk to him directly. You can get a lot more out of the situation face to face, and if he _is_ a mage, he might think he's supposed to be hiding it."

Entirely possible Really, plausible even. The correct course of action, without a doubt, would be for him to make the drive to Boston, stop in during office hours, and talk to Kent about things.

But it's not that simple. Nothing is ever that simple, really, but least of all that.

"I'm not sure," he says in a desperate attempt to put the whole thing off. "Maybe I'll come up with a better plan."

It's a very poor lie, and Bruce catches on immediately, squinting at him as he attempts to divine Khalid's motives. Khalid doesn't think it should be hard, but then Bruce hasn't known him long enough to guess, and Khalid hasn't talked enough about the time before he met Bruce, either.

"Is there another reason why you don't want to go...? Do you want to rest?"

Khalid has no idea what compels him to open his mouth. Bruce is already giving him an out. He could just say he's tired and needs more time before he jumps head-first into what's sure to be another emotionally-exhausting conversation.

Instead, he tells him the truth.

"I killed my world's Kent Nelson."

He regrets saying it the moment he does. Bruce goes pale, horrified by the response. Khalid forces himself to stand, his brain all over the place, but he's not fast enough.

"I'm sorry," Bruce blurts. "I didn't know."

"You didn't know because I didn't tell anyone," Khalid says quickly. "Can I go? Sorry."

He doesn't wait for a response, just gets out of the kitchen as fast as he can. He can't not think about what happened, both with Bruce and with Kent himself. He's made things awful for Bruce, and he...

He doesn't want to think about it.

He doesn't have a direction in mind, but he isn't surprised when he ends up out back. His room in the manor isn't _home,_ and being outside... well, it's calming in a way that being in a building isn't. No one else is out back, so he walks, looping around once before he finds himself at the gazebo.

For once, Thomas isn't there, and Khalid takes the seat that Thomas almost always occupies, staring out over the lawn. It's a good view. A peaceful view. But he doesn't _want_ a peaceful view. He wants a distraction, something that will take his mind off Kent.

"Thoth?" It's a long shot. Really, the odds that Thoth will _just so happen_ to respond to his plea is astronomical. He tries anyway; he has nothing to lose. "If you would talk to me, that would be really helpful. It would be... it would be nice."

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to focus. Trying to reach out. Thoth helped him before, and he just wants... something. Acknowledgement beyond the tiniest flicker of flame. 

He tries. He really does. He reaches out and _tries_ because it's the only thing he can do, and his focus is so intense that when someone speaks behind him he jumps, nearly falling off his seat.

"You don't look like you're having a good time," Thomas says, and Khalid takes a moment to catch his breath, hand pressed to his chest. He can feel his heart racing, but he tells himself that he's just being stupid.

Thomas isn't a danger, and he should have been able to hear Thomas coming long before he arrived. It was only how distracted he was that kept him from hearing Thomas approaching. It's not like Thomas was sneaking up on him or anything stupid like that.

Definitely not.

"No," Khalid admits. "I just... needed a moment alone."

He expects Thomas to excuse himself, but the older man doesn't. Instead, he settles in right beside where he usually sits, staring out at the graves for a moment before turning his attention back to Khalid.

"Thought Bruce looked upset. What happened?"

Thomas is nothing if not direct. He doesn't beat around the bush, just directs the issue directly. He wants to know something, so he just _asks,_ and while normally Khalid would applaud that sort of thing, being the focus of it feels exhausting only a few words in.

So he makes a very poorly planned attempt to counter the awkwardness he's feeling by making _Thomas_ feel awkward in turn.

"I told Bruce I killed my mentor back in my own world."

The confession doesn't have the desired effect, to say the least. He's expecting horror the way Bruce was horrified. Instead, he gets simple acceptance, almost entirely without comment. It seems to take Thomas a second to realize what Khalid was expecting, and then he lets out a short bark of a laugh, shaking his head.

"I've killed a lot of people, Khalid, and let a lot of people be killed because of me. I'm not someone who's going to let out a _scandalized gasp_ at the idea of you murdering someone. I'm not my son."

"It's not—" Khalid has to stop himself, taking a deep breath. Too angry. Too aggressive. He needs to dial it back a _lot._ "It wasn't a murder," he corrects. "It was self defense. He was infected by the virus and trying to kill _me."_

"Mm. You're already doing a better job of this then others," Thomas says, and Khalid's so baffled he can only stare in absolute confusion.

What is _that_ supposed to mean?

Thomas apparently gets his confusion, because he snorts, rolling his eyes.

"Too many people get caught up in laying blame... mostly on themselves. They take accidental deaths and situations where they failed and treat them like cold blooded murder. There are levels to it. Nuance."

"There's not," Khalid protests immediately. "Not—" He stops, frustrated. There _are_ levels, but he feels like Thomas is making it sound so simple. "Any life lost is too many. Cold blooded murder and accidental death are different, but they're both still _bad."_

"I never said they weren't," Thomas says. He's _bothering_ Khalid, and Khalid can't put his finger on why. Because he was already frustrated? Thomas's self-assured (almost _arrogant)_ tone of voice? "People try and make it complicated, but it's simple. Any death is too much, but sometimes you have to make the choice anyway. _Not_ making the choice to kill can be just as bad."

"It isn't—"

"It is," Thomas says with absolute finality. "What separates my choice to kill Victor Freeze, and my choice to not kill my wife? One saved lives. One lead to hundreds of deaths."

"The end doesn't justify the means—"

Khalid stops short, his brain catching on a few seconds too late.

"Your wife?"

Thomas's expression changes in an instant. Before he was confident, and suddenly he's deadly serious.

"Ignore that."

"I'm not ignoring that you just implied that... that _not killing your wife_ killed hundreds of people!"

His wife should be Martha Wayne, and as far as Khalid knows she was... well, a perfectly ordinary person. Not someone whose death would decide the fate of hundreds. It doesn't make _sense,_ and there's no way he can just _ignore it._

Thomas reaches up, rubbing at his temples with one hand. He lets out an overly weary sigh, and then leans back a bit. Khalid can tell he's going to explain even before he does, and he lists with rapt attention.

"My wife never recovered after our son's death. Grief is one thing, but for her it was... beyond that. For months she couldn't do anything other than cry. It took effort to get her into therapy, and she just... it wasn't helping." It's obvious to Khalid how much getting it out is a struggle for Thomas, and yet Thomas doesn't stop anyway. "I thought killing the man who'd killed our son would help her. Instead, she had a breakdown, and I had to have her institutionalized. I'd say that it was a mistake, but I'm still not even sure if it was. She started... she became obsessed. She escaped and started... hurting people. Lots of people. Innocent people, and people I'd cared about. And all the while I continued to catch her, returning her to Arkham in the hopes they'd be able to help. It was hypocritical—I killed the others but spared her, over and over—and it cost lives."

It's a lot, and Khalid sits there in silence for a moment, taking it all in. He understands why Thomas didn't share it; he can only imagine how Bruce would react to the idea that his mother had become one of the people Batman fought against.

But at the same time...

"You should talk to someone about it," Khalid says. "Your therapist, or... I don't know, Bruce. Even if it hurts, he'd... he'd probably understand you better."

The guilt is so obviously weighing on Thomas. He needs to tell _someone,_ and Khalid isn't even close to qualified to handle it.

Thomas's laugh is painfully bitter.

"I couldn't tell Bruce. Not ever. Tell him that his mother became _the Joker?_ He's traumatized enough by what the bastard did to Jason. There's nothing to be gained from telling him the truth—it'll only hurt him."

Khalid's always believed that the truth will set you free, but for once he finds himself faltering. His mouth is open, ready to tell Thomas that he should tell Bruce, but... he can't.

Thomas is right. What's to be gained from telling Bruce? It'll only bring more pain. The only possible reason would be for Thomas's benefit, and the gains don't outweigh the losses.

"Your therapist then," Khalid tries. "They're... they're sworn to secrecy."

"And if it leaks?"

It's not _supposed_ to leak, but he gets what Thomas means. The risks, again, are far too high, and Khalid pauses, raising his hand to his face and absentmindedly biting at his finger, deep in thought.

He needs a solution. An answer.

And instead he comes up empty.

"You shouldn't have to... to bear that alone."

Thomas's laugh is short and, at least in Khalid's mind, deeply bitter.

"I'm not alone," he points out. "Now you know."

And there's no escaping that truth.


	34. Chapter 34

What he's learned feels like a deathbed confession.

It weighs on him, impossible to ignore. Impossible to forget, even though he tries. _Martha Wayne became the Joker._ He can't stop thinking about it.

The only mercy is that, for the most part, Bruce and the others leave him alone. He's given space—actual space, rather than space intruded on by Thad—and time to process.

Bruce must think Khalid's upset over his confession earlier, but in the end it's the farthest thing from his mind. Without a visit to this world's Kent Nelson looming over him, his confused and painful feelings towards his old mentor feel unimportant.

The confession barely matters compared to what he's learned from Thomas.

He does _try_ and make an effort, at least: the only possible alternative to Kent Nelson would be to locate this world's version of Nabu, so he spends a few hours that evening in the library, shuffling through material and trying very hard to locate him.

He shouldn't have bothered. It's not that he doesn't find mention of Nabu (or more accurately, the helmet), but instead the fact that he simply can't focus. It takes him thirty minutes to read a single page, constantly losing his place as his thoughts wander.

He needs to come up with a solution. He needs to find an answer.

He tries to ambush Thomas the following morning, only to find that the man's gone. He searches the house top to bottom and comes up empty handed, and after an hour of fruitless searching, he forces himself to ask Jason.

"Thomas?" Jason asks, eyebrows raising. He's in the midst of working on something, but Khalid can't read the papers from where he's standing. Something for the League, maybe? "He's at church. Goes with Joey every Sunday."

Oh. He knew that. He's known that since the first week he arrived at the manor. He'd just completely lost track of the day of the week, and it had never occurred to him that Thomas would be out the way he _always_ is.

Apparently his embarrassment is obvious, because Jason gives him a sympathetic look.

"What did you need? Maybe I can help."

Khalid almost turns him down, because realistically there's very little Jason can do, and then hesitates. Maybe he's just looking at it the wrong way. Thomas needs to talk to someone about it, and Khalid doesn't need to _be_ that person... he just needs to find someone who can.

"You had a therapist, right?"

The question takes Jason aback, and he pauses for a moment, staring at Khalid before slowly nodding.

"I did. Still do... he stops by sometimes. Checks in on me, or if something bad happens I can always reach out to him. Were you looking for a therapist?"

A therapist for himself... he hadn't given it any thought, but now that it's there...

"Maybe. Maybe not right now, but... sometime. I actually wasn't going to ask for myself."

Either Jason can't or won't guess, because he stays quiet, waiting for Khalid to explain himself. Khalid has a few moments of silence to pull together a story that sounds like it make some kind of sense, and only then does he speak again. It's a lie, but only a _slight_ one, and he's hoping no one ever is in a position to figure out that it was.

"Thomas mentioned to me that he doesn't feel comfortable with his current therapist. He probably heard about... well, the thing with Will's therapist?"

"First therapist," Jason corrects. "Probably. What did you have in mind?"

"I mean, your therapist has been with you a long time, and he's never leaked anything to anyone, right? Technically it could be a potential conflict of interest, but I'm not sure he'd consider you a regular patient at this point... and a patients needs take priority over that. If the only person Thomas would feel comfortable talking to is someone with a proven track record for confidentiality, he might take him."

Jason's expression right then is hard to read. Khalid can't tell if he thinks it's a stupid idea or not (or maybe whether or not he's figured out the small fib Khalid slid in to the whole conversation), but after a moment Jason lets out a long _hmmm,_ obviously thinking about it.

"Hudson's retired, for one," he says, "but he might be willing to come back for something like this, though. Thomas really told you he wasn't comfortable?"

He _implied_ it, and Khalid decides that's close enough, offering a nod in response.

"Suppose I should probably be happy he's comfortable enough with _anyone_ to talk to them about it," Jason continues, and Khalid realizes that Jason is, whether he'll admit it or not, a little bit hurt that Thomas was willing to talk to _Khalid_ and not him.

"It just came out," Khalid says, trying to reassure him. "I told him about... about my thing. You probably heard from Bruce."

Jason shakes his head.

"Bruce didn't tell me anything, so I'm not sure what you're talking about. Considering how reluctant you are to even say what it is... probably for good reasons."

He'd assumed Bruce would have told, and all of a sudden he's reconsidering that. Why _would_ Bruce tell? If anyone can be trusted to keep a secret, it's the man who managed to be Batman for years without anyone finding out. Jason might be family, but there's no need for him to be told, and Bruce has apparently opted to leave Khalid with his privacy until he's ready to address it.

"I'll talk to Hudson," Jason says with a wave of his hand. "No promises, but it might help."

It's a weight off Khalid's mind, even if it's not yet really _dealt with._ There's still room for things to go wrong, but the fact that there's progress being made is enough for Khalid anyway. When Thomas returns later that afternoon, Khalid can look at him (and Bruce, for that matter) without feeling an absolute wave of guilt the way he did before.

He doesn't talk to Thomas right away. He waits until dinner's over and Thomas starts to head to his room, and only then does Khalid go after him, waving to draw his attention and pulling him aside.

He keeps his voice down. Nothing is going to stop Era from overhearing what they're talking about, Khalid's pretty sure, but Era isn't likely to tell anyone about it, either.

"I worked out a solution to our problem. You can't trust your existing therapist, and for... well, what I think is a pretty good reason. But if you went with a therapist who already has a proven track record..."

He trails off. Thomas looks, if anything, deeply unimpressed by the idea, and when Khalid stops talking he simply shakes his head.

"This isn't necessary. I'll keep talking to my existing therapist. If it comes up down the line, then it comes up, but it isn't something that needs to be dealt with right now. It might be new information _to you,_ but it's something I've been dealing with for a long time. It doesn't change anything, because I haven't actually _changed._ "

What?

Khalid's caught off guard, unsure of what to do about the information he just received. _Nothing's changed._ Thomas _doesn't need to deal with it right then._

"I'm sorry, but that's bullshit," Khalid snaps, and apparently his strong language is enough to turn the tables, catching _Thomas_ off guard. There's more anger in Khalid's voice, and Thomas doesn't seem prepared to handle it. "It doesn't change things for you, but it changes things for _me._ You've stuck me with this great big secret that I can't talk to anyone about or stop thinking about, and I'm not going to be able to rest properly until I know that you're dealing with it."

"It isn't your issue—" Thomas starts, but even just that start goes over like a lead balloon.

"You made it my issue when you dumped that on me. You need to deal with it, Thomas. Period."

Thomas is silent, his expression... mixed. He half looks like he's about to start yelling, and Khalid can see a vein starting to protrude in his forehead and has to bite back a comment about Thomas's blood pressure. But it isn't all anger, either. There's something beyond the anger, something that might be misery or maybe pity.

Khalid can't tell, and he doesn't think it matters either.

"I'm serious about this," Khalid says flatly. "If you want to make up for the fact that you dumped this on me... talk to the therapist. If they didn't leak Jason's life story to the press, they aren't going leak _your_ stuff either."

Thomas grunts.

It's not eloquent, but it's not a _no,_ either, and Khalid holds his ground, staring up at Thomas waiting for a proper response. He's an adult—he should be able to talk without grunting.

"I'll think about it."

"Do better than thinking about it."

Khalid fixes Thomas with his most intimidating glare. He isn't going to back down—he just has to treat Thomas like a particularly stubborn patient.

"...Fine." Thomas gives in, and it's like watching a particularly stubborn tree finally fall during a storm. There's a sense of undeniably victory that comes along with it, and it takes a show of effort to keep himself from smirking in Thomas's direction.

It's only the first step, after all.


	35. Chapter 35

Khalid has to remind himself, over and over again, that things haven't really been _resolved._ Just because Thomas has agreed to talk to a therapist doesn't mean he's genuinely going to get help. He might not put the effort in, or Jason's therapist might not be available at all. 

But it's a victory. It _feels_ like a win, and that's all Khalid needs to be able to relax and focus on things that are _actually_ his problem.

It's just after lunch on Monday when Bruce broaches the subject, clearing his throat and obviously attempting to handle it with all the delicacy he can manage. He really doesn't need to bother—Khalid's more or less emotionally prepared by then—but he appreciates the effort being made anyway.

"So," he says carefully, "I was thinking you might want to... talk to a therapist."

Not exactly what Khalid was expecting, but... well, he should have. Bruce is a _major_ proponent of therapy, after all.

"I've thought about it," Khalid says. "I'm not against it." He probably shouldn't drop into the head space he uses with patients, but he absolutely does. "I think I'm still early enough in the adjustment period that therapy wouldn't be particularly helpful at this point. Once I've settled in more, I should have a better grasp of what I still need to work on."

Bruce is absolutely caught off guard by his response, and Khalid's pretty sure that none of the people Bruce has pitched therapy to have politely declined because they aren't in the right emotional space for it.

"...You've had therapy before, I guess?"

"Counselling," Khalid confirms. "When I was pre-med and trying to adjust. It was only a few sessions, but it was helpful anyway."

"Huh."

Yep, Bruce is _definitely_ not sure how to handle that, so Khalid cuts him a break and changes the subject.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to see Kent Nelson," he says simply, "so I was looking into alternates. The only person I'm aware of who might be able to help would be Nabu, the spirit of the helm, which means I need to figure out where the Helmet of Fate is."

"Or if it exists," Bruce points out, and Khalid has to acknowledge that he has a point. It's entirely possible the helmet _doesn't_ exist. That it never did.

But he's hoping it does. He's hoping that the helmet exists, whether magical or not. If he can find it, he'll be able to know for sure, and from there...

Well, hopefully Nabu, but he's not holding his breath. He knows the odds are probably extremely low.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Bruce asks. "I have connections in a lot of places, but... well, archaeology isn't particularly one of them. I have a contact at Gotham's museum?"

For a moment, Khalid actually has to pause, unsure of what he wants to ask. The problem is that there's no one master database of archaeological digs, especially not _1920s unsponsored digs._ There might not even be any records at all. The more he thinks about it, the more difficult the problem becomes, because the only person who would possibly know would be...

Kent Nelson himself.

Khalid lets out a groan, and Bruce stares at him in confusion.

"I'm missing something."

"I just tried to figure out what my next step is and came up empty," Khalid admits. "I... will need to talk with him. There's no way for me to figure out what's happened to the helmet without his information."

"You don't have to rush," Bruce points out. "You could take your time."

"Pointless," Khalid says. "And... I need to just deal with it." The longer he drags it out, the greater his dread is going to be. The reality can't be any worse than the anticipation is, and he makes a snap decision then and there. "Could I borrow a car and drive up?"

"You don't have your license," Bruce points out. "Someone could drive you?"

With the time and how far it is, they'd be cutting it close if they left right then, meaning he'd most likely have to go tomorrow. It's a pain, and frustrating, so he immediately looks for an alternative.

"Could Era take me?"

"You'd have to ask," Bruce says, offering a shrug. "He might be willing to. Were you planning on going now?"

If he doesn't go right then, it's going to weigh on him. He's not going to be able to sleep.

"I might as well."

Bruce almost looks like he's going to protest, but reconsiders at the last minute.

"You should go talk to him then. If he will take you... Era is fast, but you'll still be cutting it close if you want to go tonight."

Khalid doesn't linger. Finding Era is easy enough, since he's almost always at the same place, and it's just a matter of going up to the third floor and waving to draw his attention. Era turns, regarding Khalid with his usual lack of emotion, and then he floats down to be at eye level.

"You wish me to transport you to Boston."

It isn't a question, but Khalid treats it as one.

"Yes, please. If it's not too much trouble, it would be... a lot faster for you to take me rather than driving."

"It would be," Era says. "There is no sign of danger in the area, and a brief trip would not be a significant issue. When you wish to be picked up, you would simply have to phone the house."

Oh. It shouldn't be a surprise that Era wouldn't want to stick around for however long the talk is going to take, but the fact that he's going to be completely alone feels... intimidating.

But he has to do it. It's too late to go back.


	36. Chapter 36

Flying with Era isn't comfortable, but it's a great deal faster then any car could ever be. If he'd driven, the trip would have been _hours,_ even assuming there's no traffic.

Flying bundled in Era's arms doesn't even take a full thirty minutes. They draw a considerable amount of attention when Era descends onto campus, with students and staff stopping to gawk at Era... and Khalid himself.

Era has never quite mastered dressing like a human. Khalid isn't sure if he doesn't know how, or if he's just uninterested in passing as a human, but the very Kryptonian bodysuit leaves little room to speculate, and Khalid's eager to be away from him before too many people get pictures.

Someone is going to, of that he has no doubt. The question is only whether they'll be showing it to their friends or sending it to the media.

Era's departure provides him some much needed cover, and Khalid does what he can to draw as little attention as possible. He doesn't stick out on a university campus, and while this university is not his own, there are commonalities that make the whole thing easier. He knows roughly where to look to find a map of the campus, and once he's located the wing with the archaeology faculties offices, it's just a matter of checking nameplates until he finds the right one. No one stops him: to them, he's just another student going to a professor.

But when he finds the right door, with a little _K. Nelson_ nameplate just beside it, he hesitates.

Maybe he shouldn't. Maybe he should just burst in and get it over with. But it's easier said than done, and he can't quite make himself open it. Students walk by, completely ignoring him, and Khalid swallows desperately at the lump in his throat.

He can't let himself cry. Not here. Not now.

His hand feels like a lead weight as he raises it to knock at the door. Maybe he'll be lucky (unlucky?). Maybe Kent won't even be there.

He doesn't get his wish. Hardly a few moments after he's knocked, the door opens, and a man leans out, blinking at him somewhat owlishly.

It isn't Kent Nelson.

The man in front of him is around the same age, but there's no question in Khalid's mind. For one, the man in front of him isn't grey, or even blond: he's got red hair, worn in a short ponytail that _his_ Kent Nelson wouldn't have been caught dead in. His eyes are green, and he has a spattering of _freckles_ across his face, further sealing the deal.

He's not Kent Nelson, which leaves the all important question of who he _actually_ is.

"Hello?" The man asks, looking Khalid up and down, obviously unfamiliar with him. "Can I help you with something?" Khalid is forced to roll with it, swallowing down his nerves and carrying on anyway.

"Yes, I was hoping to speak with Professor Nelson?"

"That's me."

What.

Khalid debates the possibility that it's something like what happened with Tim Drake: he heard enough to know that his world's version of Tim is very different from _this_ world's version of Tim, and it's possible the same thing is happening right then.

"Could I speak with you, then? I was hoping for your insight on a private matter."

Kent Nelson ( _apparently)_ squints at him, and doesn't move to let him in immediately.

"You're not a student here, are you? I'd recognize you, I'm pretty sure."

"No sir."

It's easy enough to treat the man in front of him like a random member of his school's faculty, someone worthy of respect, but not someone he's familiar with. Apparently it works, because after a moment Nelson steps out of the way, letting him into the office and closing the door behind him.

"I'll admit you seem familiar," Kent Nelson says, his scrutiny extremely obvious and hard to ignore. He settles in at his desk, shuffling aside papers to make room, and Khalid takes a seat across from him. "Have we met?"

"Not us, no."

From what Muhammed said, this Kent Nelson wasn't particularly close with his counterpart, but they'd likely run into each other at least once... or maybe he's just recognizing Khalid's mother in him, more familiar with his niece then his grand nephew.

"Mysterious," Nelson says, leaning back in his seat. He looks almost amused by it, steepling his fingers as he continues to inspect Khalid, looking for some sort of sign of what brought him there. "I assume you aren't coming to ask my archaeological advice?"

"I am, actually," Khalid says, which is true enough. "My name is Khalid Nassour."

Better to get that out of the way, and it has the desired effect. Nelson's eyes go wide, looking Khalid over with the new information in mind.

"You are _much_ more grown up then I remember you being, but I must admit I probably should have recognized you. Your mother would be horrified."

Khalid doesn't want him drawing the wrong conclusions, so he quickly clarifies.

"I'm not that Khalid Nassour. I'm not sure if you saw in the papers, but I'm... well, one of the people from another dimension. So I'm not your nephew, I'm the him from another dimension."

Nelson's face twists in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing as he tries to puzzle out what Khalid is talking about.

"Nephew?" He ventures carefully.

"Grand nephew," Khalid corrects. Technically Kent Nelson is his great-uncle, his mother's uncle, but Khalid hasn't called him that since they first met. It's just overly technical and highly unnecessary, and their relationship was always closer to uncle and nephew then great-uncle and grand nephew.

There's another moment of abject confusion from Nelson, and then his face lights up with the realization.

"You mean my father!"

_What?_

"Your... father?"

Nelson pulls open a drawer, digging through until he finds what he's looking for: a framed photograph that he holds out for Khalid to take. He does, albeit reluctantly, and the moment he looks at it, he understands what's happening.

In the picture is Kent Nelson and his parents, but the person Khalid recognizes isn't the man in front of him: it's his father, who is _without a doubt_ the Kent Nelson he's familiar with, albeit much, much older. He has to be almost eighty, and the photo doesn't even look recent, and that's enough to tell Khalid so much that he doesn't want to know.

"Oh," Khalid says, his voice whisper soft as the realization hits him.

Kent Nelson found the Helmet of Fate in _the 1920s._ There's absolutely no way he'd be still working at the school if he continued aging normally, and without the magic that kept him eternally in his prime...

He's old. He's old, and the man in front of him is his _son._ Kent Nelson Junior.

"Oh," Khalid says again.

Nelson's expression is sympathetic. He can't possibly know what Khalid's thinking, but his distress must be obvious enough as Khalid hands the photo back, and Nelson tucks it away.

"I must admit I'm a bit... confused as to why you'd come looking for my father, but hopefully I can help."

Where does he even _start?_ The beginning is too complex, so Khalid gives him a very, _very_ cut down version of the truth.

"In my world, I'm a mage, and so is— _was_ —your father. He was my mentor, and he helped me with a lot of things. He also... well, didn't age. He looked like he was forty, and he'd looked that way for decades." He'd forgotten how old Kent Nelson _actually_ was; it had only come up once, after all. "In my world, he went on archaeological digs with his father, and he... found an artifact that lead him down that path. I'm trying to figure out if he never found it at all, or if he found it and it was different from what I was used to."

"...Ominous," Nelson notes. "Did you want to talk to him, or just... his files?"

Khalid has to make a snap decision.

"His files, if they exist." He doesn't know if he'd be able to look Kent Nelson in the face. Not after this. Not knowing what he'd be really like. An old man with a son and probably a wife and a whole _life_ that Khalid barely got to know about.

He wishes he'd thought to ask.

"Well, then hopefully you have more details on exactly which artifact it is, because he had... a lot of files." Nelson stands from his desk, smacking his hand down on a filing cabinet. Not a single drawer, but an _entire filing cabinet,_ just one of many that line the wall. "I'm supposed to be digitizing them, but I've been supposed to be digitizing them for the last five years. Details?"

Khalid only heard the story once, and he has to rack his brain for the details. He'd never been told the _coordinates_ or anything half as useful, so he tries to go from the start.

"In my timeline, he went on a dig in 1920 with his father. It wasn't sponsored or anything, just... well, the two of them. He triggered a trap, which killed his father, but also let him find a powerful magical artifact."

He doesn't say _helmet._ He doesn't want to lead him too much, because there's no guarantee that anything is going to be universal. Maybe it's not a helmet; maybe it's a cloak or something else.

"Well, that didn't happen," Nelson says, confirming Khalid's suspicions. "My grandfather lived long enough to meet me. So either they didn't go on the dig you're talking about, they didn't find the artifact, or it wasn't magic like you said."

He's already thumbing through files, flipping through in search of something familiar.

"Do you know what they were looking for?"

Khalid wrinkles his nose. He doesn't like talking ill of the dead, but there's no way around it.

"Proof that the Egyptians didn't build the pyramids, and that we'd been visited by aliens."

Nelson, to his great relief, snorts with derision.

"The more things change, the more things stay the same. I'd like to say he changed his mind over time, but he didn't. He went to his grave still convinced that there was _no way_ the pyramids could have been built by... well, you know."

Khalid does, in fact, know. Nelson punctuates the statement by rolling his eyes, starting to pull file after file out of the filing cabinet.

"So it should be, in theory, somewhere in here. There was a period that was just the two of them, and most of what they did wasn't backed by any institution at the time. As far as I'm aware, they didn't find much of anything. No major discoveries, and nothing of importance. From what my father told me, it started because of a fight Sven had with the director of his previous job, and the whole thing ended when Sven ran out of money and had to go crawling back to him, bowing his head and saying the director had been right about everything. He never forgave himself for doing so, so if he _had_ found something significant... well, I doubt he would have shared it with his superiors."

That provides potential, but the ever-increasing stack of files that Nelson is piling onto his desk is getting more intimidating by the second.

"I'll confess I haven't actually _read_ most of these," Nelson says as he finishes unloading the files. "I read some of them back when I first moved into this office, but then I told myself I'd get back to them and simply never did. If you have time to kill, I don't think I should have anything else to do unless a student stops by, so..."

It's an invitation to go digging, and while Khalid isn't looking forward to it...

Well, he doesn't have a lot of options.


	37. Chapter 37

The most fascinating part of Sven Nelson's files is the way Khalid can order them without even looking at the dates.

The early files are neat, orderly, and comprehensive. They include every single possible detail, and are thus _unbelievably_ dry. The later ones, near the end of his dual expeditions with his son, are both more interesting to read... and a great deal shorter. His notes for a seven day dig that found only pottery shards in the first year goes ten pages. A one hour dig in the final year that lead to the discovery of a cache of ancient roman items gets three lines.

At one point, Nelson actually _does_ have a student drop by, and Khalid excuses himself to stand in the hall, opting to do some extra research on his phone. Sven Nelson doesn't have enough of a reputation that he's even mentioned anywhere online outside of an obituary, but Kent Nelson (and Kent Nelson Junior) do. They're both reputable enough archaeologists, but there's nothing particularly relevant in their histories, and nothing that sticks out at all. When the student leaves, Khalid ducks back inside and decides a better method than _randomly grabbing files_ is necessary.

He sorts the files by thickness, placing the thinnest files right at the top. They're the easiest to rule out, but also the ones that happened the latest: Khalid seriously doubts that any major discoveries like the helmet would be right at the start. More likely it would have been near the end, although he's having a hard time articulating his line of thought on the subject.

"Does he even have any of these things?" He asks as he skims over an explanation of some artifacts Sven found on what must have been his last dig.

"Donated, I believe," Nelson says. "Honestly I haven't tracked most of them down or anything, but as far as I'm aware he left basically nothing to my father. His finances were... unfortunate by the time he passed."

Khalid isn't sure what to say about that. Technically speaking, Sven Nelson _is_ a relative of his, but he was long dead before Khalid was even born back in his world. From the sounds of it, he was gone even before this world's Khalid was born. He doesn't feel particularly sad about the old man's passing, and gets the impression Nelson isn't that upset either.

He doesn't know what to say, so he falls back on his father's advice: _if you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all._

He doesn't, going back to his notes.

They're interrupted only once more by a student, whose question is brief enough Khalid doesn't even get a chance to leave before he's ready to go. _That_ student gawks at him fairly openly as he goes, leaving Khalid little doubt he's been recognized.

"He probably recognized me from the papers," Khalid says with a shake of his head. "If the news comes looking..."

"Then I'll talk their ear off about our new initiatives," Nelson says with a laugh. He's good-natured about the whole thing, and Khalid likes to think they'd have gotten along _without_ the prior history they have.

Or the _sort of_ private history they have, anyway.

"Just as long as you aren't bothered," Khalid says, grabbing another report and getting to reading.

"I'll be fine. Who knows, if they think I've got a celebrity visiting my office, maybe it'll get more students to visit during office hours."

Khalid's been there maybe three or four hours—probably long past when Nelson would normally have gone home—when the other man makes a noise of surprise, leaning forward in his seat. Khalid has to sit and wait for him to finish reading, and only once he's done does Nelson set the report down, sliding it across the cluttered desk for Khalid to look at.

"I bet this is it. _Beyond_ suspicious, to say the least."

Khalid gets three lines in and has to agree.

The report is obviously one of the later ones, because the entire thing isn't more than a page. It seems to have been written in a hurry, the writing frantic and genuinely hard to read in places. Even so, the story is clear enough: while investigating, Sven discovered a previously unidentified tomb, and began to explore it with his son. The story, from there, seems... hard to follow, but from what Khalid gathers, _something_ possessed Kent, causing him to attempt to trigger a trap. He was only stopped by Sven's quick action, and Sven was forced to drag his son from the tomb.

"This is the followup," Nelson says, shoving another report into Khalid's hands. "Seems like he tried to go back, but the entrance had collapsed. He notes that he's going to return with more funding and excavation equipment, but as far as I can tell he never _did_ go back."

It lines up with the story Khalid knows. Kent was always light on the details, but some sort of weird possession seems _very_ in line with Nabu's abilities.

The original report doesn't mention it, but the follow up does mention one other detail: a state of a man, larger than life, looming over the first room they found. It tells him there's almost definitely more to the story, but there's no obvious details, save one.

"These are the coordinates, right?" Khalid asks, pointing to some numbers in the corner. "Is there a way to... I don't know, check if anyone else has dug around that area?"

"I can check with _this_ university, and with other universities that have collaborated with us. The Egyptian Ministry of Antiquities would probably be able to tell us of any _recent_ digs in that area, but their records aren't comprehensive."

Khalid doesn't know much about archaeology, even if his mother was one. It was never a subject that really interested him, despite his mother's efforts, but he has at _least_ enough understanding to realize why Egypt's records would be so shoddy if you go too far back.

"I'll have to see what can be done," Khalid says, reading over the paper again. "I don't suppose I could get a copy of these to show the League?"

"The Justice League? You can have copies of whatever you want." Nelson seems genuinely pleased by the idea that his grandfather's work will be going before the League, and they walk together to the faculty office, where he makes the required copies.

"If there's anything else you need, just let me know. I'd be happy to help, and... well, we're family." The smile he gives Khalid is clearly hopeful, and Khalid tries to meet it with one of his own. The smile probably doesn't quite meet his eyes: he's not sure how he feels about _anything_ in the situation. He should be hopeful. Excited, even. Nabu almost certainly exists, and Khalid just needs to go retrieve him.

But it's impossible to ignore that Sven Nelson got to live and see his grandchildren only because magic was weaker. Only because, however things played out, his son never became Doctor Fate.

"Thank you," Khalid says once he has the copies in hand. "This has been... really helpful. Extremely so."

"Happy to see it getting some use. I assume you're going to go try and... find this thing? Magic artifact?"

"If we can." It's not as easy as just flying out and kicking open the tomb door: Nabu isn't an ancient _American_ spirit, and he's not sure if Egypt will be willing to let them retrieve the helmet at all.

But he has to try, at least.

"Khalid?"

Khalid's head snaps up, Nelson's voice dragging him out of his mental swirl.

"Thanks for coming. Even if you aren't _my_ relative, it was good to see you just the same."

"This world's... this world's Khalid is still around," Khalid says after a moment's hesitation. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind getting to know you. I'm sure you'd get along."

"Might have to stop by and check up on Elizabeth at some point."

The mention of his mother (or _not_ his mother, in this case) tells Khalid it's time to go, and he nods, tucking the file under his arm. He offers a hand, and Nelson shakes it.

It's time to go, and even if he _likes_ Kent Nelson Junior, Khalid hopes right then that he won't have to see him again for a long, long time.


	38. Chapter 38

Knowing that the Helmet of Fate exists and is lying, likely undiscovered, in a tomb in Egypt should make things easy. A hundred years ago, they'd simply have gone straight for it, dug it up, and called it a day. But the political situation is far more complex then it was so long ago, and requires a lot more finesse.

Khalid tells the League about what he's learned, and provides them copies of Sven Nelson's notes, but the moment that's done, things fall out of his hands. He isn't an archaeologist. He might be an expert in his field, but it's a field that doesn't even _exist_ in this universe. There's simply nothing he can contribute, and beyond Bruce or Slade occasionally mentioning that they're still working on it, Khalid simply stops hearing about it.

He's no longer a part of a story he considered his own.

The days seem to pass with almost agonizing slowness.

Khalid's magical studies are slowly progressing, if they could be considered to be progressing at all. He manages to light a candle again, but the effort feels far more draining then it should. Attempts to perform more complicated (and yet more familiar) feats of magic fail, but that isn't enough to stop him from continuing.

A few days before, Slade pulls Khalid aside and warns him that Jason's birthday is coming up. He ends up going with Joey and Thad to pick up gifts, with Khalid pondering his options before selecting a newly released novel he thinks Jason might like. The party is a large one, with plenty of people dropping by to congratulate Jason, and for the most part Khalid sticks to the corners, unfamiliar with most of the people coming to visit.

He feels lost.

Hudson turns out to be either unable or unwilling to take Thomas on as a patient, but it doesn't matter: the idea is there, and Will's therapist does so instead. Thomas is less than pleased, and Khalid hears all about how annoyed Thomas is second hand.

August 20th creeps past, marking one month that Khalid's been there. It simultaneously feels far longer and far shorter, and the only break from the strange tedium of the days comes late that afternoon, when Bruce drops a deeply unexpected bomb on him.

He's stretched out in an armchair in the library with Dexter purring away in his lap, working his way through a book from Jason's collection when Bruce knocks at the open door. Khalid raises his head, offering a small wave, and Dexter stops purring, hackles raising at the interruption. Dexter's doing just fine _in general,_ but he still clearly doesn't like most people, Bruce included.

"I had some news for you, if you want to hear it," Bruce says.

Khalid looks down on the cat at his legs and decides that sitting up would probably be a bad idea, forcing him to have the entire conversation while lounging instead.

"News?"

"I spoke with a friend of mine who sits on the board for the Association of Medical Colleges," Bruce starts, and Khalid's stomach falls through the floor. "I explained your situation, and he thought it was a fairly unique case. He said if you'd be willing to write the MCAT, he'd look into finding you an appropriate placement."

Khalid's brain feels like it's on fire.

The MCAT? He's just going to _write the MCAT again?_

Bruce obviously has no idea what he's asking Khalid to do, but the more Khalid thinks about it, the more he convinces himself that it won't be _that_ bad. He still has all the knowledge he studied for the first time around. He's always had a good memory, and refreshing it shouldn't be _nearly_ as much work as learning it all the first time around.

"When?"

"Whenever you're up to it. I suspect they're excited for the possibility of someone from another dimension taking it at all, but they seemed impressed with the scores I mentioned."

Khalid's going to die of embarrassment before he even gets a chance to write it.

"You didn't have to do that," he says quickly. "I don't know if I'm going to be able to match those scores. The first time I ranked so high was because I took a full year off to study."

"And work as an EMT," Bruce confirms. "You weren't _just_ studying."

No, he wasn't _just_ studying, but it's the idea of the thing.

"And," Bruce continues, "you have time. If you want to take a full year to study and adjust, then you can."

A year is too much. He'd go crazy studying for a whole year. He tries to turn it around, looking at it in a new light. Maybe this is what he needs. Maybe studying will keep him busy enough to drag him out of the distracted funk he's in right then.

"So I can just... pick a time?"

"Any time they're running a test. Just give me a few days notice that you want to, and they'll set it up."

He ponders a moment longer, absentmindedly reaching down to scratch between Dexter's ears, earning him an appreciative purr.

It's probably a good idea. At the very least, it's not a bad idea. It's _something,_ and that's enough.

"Alright," he says, with Dexter complaining loudly at the loss of Khalid's hand when he pulls it away to sign his words. "I'll start studying tonight, then, and see if I can get an idea of how long I'll want to restudy."

Bruce leaves him to it.

Khalid makes a point of collecting up all his study materials that evening. A few he buys, a few he finds, and a few the manor surprisingly already has. He makes a list of everything he wants to review, and works out his best estimate, and by the time he's started sorting it all out, he feels...

Better. Maybe not _normal,_ but it's good to have something to focus on again, and even better to feel like he's making actual progress.

He's taking steps forward, and right then, Khalid tells himself that's all he needs.


	39. Chapter 39

Khalid wakes from a nightmare with a yelp. It takes him a minute to come back to himself, to pull himself together even as the dream—nightmare, really—slips away as fast as he can try and remember it.

It was important, he thinks, but then dreams always do feel important. Dexter's staring at him, annoyed at being disturbed, and yowls pointedly until Khalid starts petting him. He doesn't feel like sleeping, so after Dexter's calmed down he climbs out of bed and starts to get ready for the day.

Will's already preparing breakfast when he gets down to the kitchen, so Khalid does what he can to help. It isn't much, but Will seems to appreciate having someone willing to _try._

He's less appreciative of the fact that Dexter won't leave Khalid alone, circling around his ankles and nearly tripping him every time he moves.

Thomas is up early and Joey arrives not long after, with Will serving them first so they'll be free to go to church whenever they want. Jason's in next, giving Joey a quick kiss before settling in for breakfast. Everyone else is slowly trickling in when there's a yelp from elsewhere in the house, and Thad blurs into the kitchen, rattling off _something_ that's too fast for the individual words to even be picked out.

"Slow down!" Will barks, and Thad slows down just enough to be intelligible.

"Ghost!"

Every day, Khalid thinks he's more or less got a handle on how things are in the manor, and every day he's proven wrong.

_Ghosts._

Will exchanges a look with Thomas, and then everyone, almost in unison, gets up and goes after Thad, already zipping away. Apparently others have noticed the ghost, because by the time they reach the main stairs, Era's floating just in front of the coast, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

The ghost is, to Khalid's intense confusion, _actually a ghost._ He's dealt with spirits before, but those were always connected to magic, and the fact that one's managed to appear in the manor is... confusing. It's floating a few feet off the ground, roughly the shape of a human, but almost entirely transparent. Khalid can see the wall right through it, and getting a good look is... more difficult than it should be.

It's like staring at someone under ten feet of water: the edges keep shifting around, and everything is so blurry it's hard to catch any fine details.

Khalid (and almost everyone else) circle around to get stand behind Era, gawking up at the ghost and trying to get a better look. From the front, Khalid can't help but feel that the man looks vaguely familiar, but it isn't someone he _knows._

Thankfully, someone else fills him in.

"Gregorio de la Vega," Jason says, squinting even harder than the rest. "Are you... dead?"

When the ghost—or apparently _not a ghost_ —speaks, it's like listening to someone on the other side of a door, wavery and indistinct. Whatever he says is first is lost completely when Thad tries to say something, and Will signs for him to be quiet, allowing Gregorio to try again.

"Not dead," he says, apparently having decided to keep it short. "Ask the mage."

Khalid assumes that's _him,_ so he clarifies.

"He's probably astral projecting. Doing it isn't hard, but making yourself visible to, uh, _non-magic folks_ can be difficult."

"Correct," Gregorio says. "Did you have the dream?"

A shiver runs down Khalid's spine.

He should have known, really. He should have realized that having such an intense nightmare would _mean_ something. His dreams, whether pleasant or not, are normally brief and quick to forget, and the one the night before was deeply unusual for him.

So of _course_ it means something more.

"I had one, but I forgot most of it quickly," Khalid admits. He tries to keep it short, well aware that if they're having a hard time hearing Gregorio, Gregorio is going to be having a hard time hearing them.

Khalid misses the first few words, only catching a single word.

"...magic..."

"I lost you," Khalid says quickly. "Say that again?"

"Message for..."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Will snaps. "You're in Peru, not on the moon. Just call us." He isn't taking no for an answer, either. Gregorio has no room to argue as Will starts rattling off the phone number. When it's obvious it doesn't all get through, he goes through again slower, holding up his hands as a visual queue. The moment he's done, Gregorio nods and fades out, and everyone suddenly goes silent.

The wait is agonizing. Everyone else seems more focused on the method Gregorio used to contact them, but for Khalid, astral projection isn't _that_ strange. He's far more concerned about the _why._

About the _dream_ Gregorio mentioned.

The phone rings only a minute or two later, and Thad's fetched it and returned before Khalid can even react properly. Thad holds the phone up for him to take, and Khalid glances to Bruce, who ushers him on. He takes the phone, picking up and pressing it to his ear.

"Gregorio?"

"Oh good, I got the right number," Gregorio says. His voice is coming through loud and clear, which is a significant advantage. Whatever he's going to say is probably _important,_ and Khalid...

Well, he doesn't want to screw something up because he misheard.

"Am I on speaker phone?"

"No, not right now."

"You might as well. Save you repeating it to them later."

Khalid holds the phone out, flipping it to speaker so everyone can hear. Despite how busy and loud the house can be, right then everyone's being perfectly respectful, staying quiet and listening to the talk.

"You were saying about the dream...?"

"You said you had it?"

"I had _a_ dream," Khalid corrects. "I don't really remember it. It was just... very intense."

"Mmm. Maybe because you're in an area with less magic. I can say for sure that anyone with any connection to magic had the same dream, so you can expect visitors."

"What exactly was the dream?" Bruce cuts in. His eyebrows are furrowed tightly together, his expression one of perfect concentration. Even if it's literally a _dream,_ Bruce is taking it seriously just the same.

"Something's going wrong," Gregorio says simply. "And then _whatever_ it was that was sending the message said your name."

His name.

"Khalid? Or his full name?" Bruce asks.

"Or Doctor Fate?" Slade suggests.

"Khalid Nassour. No question who it was talking about," Gregorio confirms. "Nothing else. I was hoping you'd know what it means, because that kind of major ripple through magic is concerning."

Khalid's still stuck on the fact that it was _his_ name. That _he_ of all people was... called out to?

It's hard not to think of Nabu. It's hard not to wonder if Nabu is somehow _aware_ of the fact that Khalid was searching for him. Maybe there's a connection. Maybe there's a coincidence. But something is happening, and he's not the only one concerned.

"Assume I know nothing about magic," Bruce says. "How concerning is this?"

"Extremely. Something like this simply doesn't happen," Gregorio explains. "Localized ripples, yes, but an associate in Russia called me to demand to know if I'd felt it, or if I knew who Khalid Nassour was. It interrupted my preparations."

It occurs to Khalid that he actually has no idea _which_ Gregorio they're speaking to. The one from his world, or the one from _this_ world? He's not even sure it matters: likely the other one is there as well.

"A world-wide magic ripple," Jason murmurs. "I'm going to just go right ahead and say that's _definitely_ bad. So how do we fix it? Or even get to the bottom of it?"

"That's beyond me," Gregorio says. "I'm going to consult with the wider magical community for information, and I'll update you if I learn anything. My best idea would be to scry and see what can be found, but..."

"But?" Will asks, folding his arms over his chest.

Khalid knows the answer to that one.

"Scrying is fickle. Most likely it's not going to give us any useful information, and I wouldn't count on it. Use your own sources if you can."

The security system beeps, indicating that someone's at the gate, and Alfred goes to handle it, leaving them to their phone call.

Even so, it's obvious to Khalid that they're near the end of the conversation. There's not much else to talk about, but a great deal to do.

"We'll stay in touch," Khalid says. "Thank you for letting us know, Gregorio."

"Figure it out, Khalid," Gregorio says, but it's not an instruction or a demand: it's a warning. Something's coming, and they need to get ahead of it before _it_ gets ahead of them.

Whatever _it_ is.


	40. Chapter 40

Khalid doesn't have time to speculate about who might be at the door before he gets his answer, but when he finds out, he realizes he should have known all along. The Zatannas are at the gate in a beat up old car, looking deeply alarmed for reasons that Khalid is fairly sure he already knows.

They're let in anyway, and Khalid meets them at the door.

"Khalid—" One of them (probably Zatanna-D, but he's not nearly good enough at telling themrt to know for sure) starts, and he cuts her off immediately.

"You had a dream where something said my name, and it was like a ripple through magic?"

Zatanna blinks at him, apparently surprised, and then exchanges a look with her counterpart as Khalid elaborates.

"Gregorio just... astral projected in and told us what was going on. I only barely had the dream, so he had to explain it."

"I'm surprised he managed," Zatanna-A says with a look of surprise. "I'm not sure I could have astral projected into here on my best day."

"Wait, why?" Bruce asks, slipping effortlessly into the conversation as he steps up, standing just beside Khalid. "You make it sound like there's an issue."

"Magic is a very... natural thing," Zatanna-A explains. "This entire area was obliterated and reformed. It's an unnatural area, and the magic hasn't quite settled in just yet. Doing any magic here at all would be extremely difficult."

Oh.

Realistically, Khalid knew that. He knows enough about magic to know how ley lines work, how they settle in over time. But he's so used to having magic _in general_ and ley lines only being an addition that he never thought about how things would work in a world where ley lines appear to be the _only_ form that magic takes.

It explains at least some of the difficulty he's been having, at least.

"Have you figured out what you're going to do?" Zatanna-D asks, glancing between Bruce and Khalid.

He wishes he knew. He wishes he had an answer. He's only _just_ found out about the ripple, and he hasn't even had time to sit down and think about it, and right then that's all he wants: a chance to sit down, think things through, and come back with an answer.

"I don't know," he says, pulling ideas out of thin air. "Go fall asleep in a more magically acceptable place and see if I get the same dream? Gregorio's already going to try and scry, and he's probably better at that then me."

Beyond that, he has nothing.

"I think he needs some time to process," Slade suggests, stepping up to stand on Khalid's other side. "All this has only just happened."

The Zatanna's shoot him a sympathetic look, and then exchange a glance with each other, apparently wordlessly in agreement.

"We're going to check with some of our contacts and see if anyone knows anything. We'll keep in touch, alright?"

"You should take our number," Bruce says, producing a business card seemingly from nowhere and holding it out for her to take. "Please don't be afraid to call, even if you don't have anything to report in, alright?"

Khalid likes both Zatannas. He considers them friends. But when they leave, he doesn't feel even slightly sorry. He just ends up falling back onto the couch and sprawling out, refusing to move until he's had time to process.

For the most part, people leave him alone. They have their own things to do, whether part of their daily life, or checking in on their own sources. Khalid means to focus, and instead he ends up nodding off on the couch, exhausted from waking up so early.

When he wakes, hours have passed, and he's still sprawled out on the couch. No one's around, and it takes him a second to even remember what happened.

Right. _Ripple through magic_ and all that.

He goes to find Bruce, and ends up (after asking Era rather than wandering around for ages) finding him in his office. He's on the phone, so Khalid waits outside, entering only when Bruce calls him in.

"That was Diana," Bruce says, his expression grim. "Apparently she felt it too. All the amazons have at least _some_ inherent magic in them, and each of them felt a... disturbing feeling as they went about their day. They assumed it was localized, but after Diana raised the issue they came to the conclusion that something's gone wrong with magic."

Something is _already_ wrong with magic in Khalid's view, so the fact that it's getting _worse_ is far from encouraging.

"Let me correct," Bruce continues, "Diana worded it as something _was_ going wrong with magic. She doesn't think it's happened yet, just that it's going to. Like... small waves before a tsunami."

Not a comforting metaphor, to say the least.

"We'll figure this out," Bruce says quietly. He stands, reaching out to rest a hand on Khalid's shoulder. "We've been through a lot, the people here. We've seen disasters and dangers. And we stand together through all of them. This won't be any different. Just hold strong, alright?"

Bruce's speech provides no actual answers, but it calms Khalid's nerves anyway. He isn't alone, he reminds himself. He has the entire Justice League at his back and then some.

"Alright, Bruce. Thanks for... for being here, I guess."

"Least I can do. I'm not saying this to put pressure on you, but... well, as far as magic goes here, it's the blind leading the blind. You've got more magical knowledge in your pinkie than this whole house."

Not _entirely_ encouraging, but Khalid can work with it.

"There's a _possibility_ that what's reaching out might be Thoth."

"The... god?" Bruce's expression is almost _pained._ He very clearly doesn't want to deal with _gods._

"The god. I... called to him when I invoked my magic. It's how I normally do things at all. The Helmet of Fate was very closely tied to the Egyptian Gods, and Thoth was... well, my patron, I guess. So it's possible that the message is from _him."_

"Alright," Bruce says, clearly giving it his best shot despite his... _difficulties_ with the concept. "If it _is_ him, what's the next step?"

"Find a highly magic place and call to him, basically. I was thinking that the place where us refugees first came through would be a good place. It was magic enough to let us come through, after all."

"Hmm," Bruce scratches at his chin. "That isn't too far. Era's already offered his help, but... I think I'd prefer to spread the load a bit. I'll call Clark and see if he'll take you."

Bruce might _say_ it's about spreading the load, but Khalid isn't sure he believes him. You don't call Superman in to _spread the load:_ you call him because you're worried about what's going to happen and want to make absolutely sure you've got things handled.

If anything, it's the most obvious sign that Bruce is taking the situation _very_ seriously.


	41. Chapter 41

Technically speaking, Clark and Era are both Kryptonians, but they couldn't be more different. Era simply scooped him up and carried him where he needed to go with minimal chatter. Clark, on the other hand, produces a pop-out bench that reminds Khalid of a ski lift. It's shockingly durable, but he feels more than a little bit silly climbing into it while it's resting on the ground.

"It's the safest way to fly," Clark reassures him. "It shouldn't be a long flight, or anything."

Jason has the exact coordinates for where they found them, which makes it easy enough to locate the general area. Khalid doubts they'll need to find the _exact_ place, so he simply gestures for Clark to pick a place.

He's still not entirely used to being around Clark, and the fact that Clark's apparently deciding to _stick around,_ looming nearby and clearly on watch isn't doing anything for Khalid's nerves. There's nothing to set up, but he's brought the helmet, hoping that there's enough juice left in it to help the connection along.

He places it in the center of the clearing that Clark's brought him too, lets out a deep breath, and tries to focus.

For a while, there's nothing. He can hear Clark nearby, his cape snapping in the breeze. He can feel the sun on his skin as he sits beneath it.

And he can feel—or maybe he just _hopes_ he can feel it—the presence of the helm before him.

The transition is so subtle that Khalid doesn't even recognize it right away. It's warm, but it was always warm. When the wind picks up, he assumes it's just that. It keeps getting warmer until he's baking, but it's the sand that tips him off: sand on the wind. The baking sun.

It's not a message. It's not words from the god who helped him so much. It's _feelings,_ and Khalid knows that feelings are all he's liable to get.

Those feelings are a direction, though, and that's enough.

He opens his eyes, and everything is back to normal. Clark is floating nearby, watching him with clear curiosity, and Khalid offers him a smile, more relaxed then he's been all day.

"So?" Clark asks.

"I think I need to go to Egypt," he says simply. "Thoth couldn't... _talk_ to me. I think he's too weak for that. But if I was closer to his place of power, it would be easier for him."

He so desperately wants to talk to Thoth. Before, Thoth represented the end of his normal life: now, he represents the return of it.

"Egypt," Clark says, vaguely surprised. "Where you think the helmet is?"

Khalid doesn't get to respond before Clark holds his hand up, touching his ear and turning away. He's apparently got some kind of a communicator, because Khalid hears him acknowledge someone talking, making a few _mhms_ and a couple _alrights._ Clark even makes a little noise of surprise, his eyebrows going up with a quiet _oh,_ and then he says he'll be back soon and drops his hand, turning back to Khalid.

"Did you know I'm weak to magic?"

Khalid's stunned reaction apparently speaks for itself, because Clark lets out a short bark of a laugh.

"Apparently Will was alarmed when he found out Bruce had sent me. He wasn't sure if you knew."

"No, I... I haven't really worked with the League," Khalid clarifies. "And it's definitely not public knowledge that you'er weak to magic. Kent— Kent Nelson might have known about that, but I hadn't heard that before."

"No one here knows because no one's magical enough to try it. You're ready to go?'

The flight back to the manor is just as weird as the flight there, and Khalid has even more to think about. For all the times his father talked about it, Khalid's never actually been to Egypt in person. The closest he's gone is when he... well, looking back he's fairly sure he _astrally projected_ to Egypt, but at the time he didn't really know what he was doing.

It's also really, really not the same thing.

But all that assumes he'll be the one going, and that's far from confirmed. He wants to be, but what he wants might not necessarily be for the best, and he has no choice but to go along with things.

So it's a relief that he's not completely left out when they arrive back at the manor. Clark obviously wants to talk to Bruce, Slade, and Jason, and both he and Clark end up herded into Bruce's office as Bruce puts out a call for any available League members so they can discuss it without constantly repeating themselves.

"Make sure Steve's on," Slade says. "He'll be the one who has the most sway here."

It makes sense. Steve is very much a representative of the government, and if someone is going to have to negotiate with Egypt to make sure the League flying in isn't seen as an invasion, it'll be him.

Steve is, thankfully, actually free right then. Diana isn't, and of the rest of the members only Arthur is free.

"Less than I'd like," Bruce grumbles as they crowd into his office, Clark included. "I doubt we'll get the others, bu we'll make do."

"I'll pass on a summary to them," Steve promises. "I assume this is about the thing Diana mentioned? The... tremor?"

"We need to upgrade the priority on our Egypt request," Clark confirms. "Khalid reached out to a source of his, and we think we'll get better information if he's in Egypt. The helmet might be a part of this, but we can't be sure until Khalid's there."

Assuming it even works, but Khalid knows he has to have faith in what he's managed so far.

"I'll bring it up. The last thing they want is some kind of crisis happening in _their_ country, and since we can't rule it out... Well, maybe that will light a fire under them."

"Hermopolis would be best," Khalid brings up. "It was Thoth's place of power, and if any place would be powerful enough to contact him..."

"I'll add it to the itinerary. The Egyptian government is seriously hesitant to allow a bunch of American heroes to come bumbling in, let alone allowing them in to go grave robbing."

"We're not—"

"I know," Steve says simply. "I've been stressing that this isn't a museum coming to dig things up and cart them home. They seem a lot more willing to work with you, knowing that your family was from Egypt, so I'm working that angle. We'll see what we can do. Just give me a day or so to impress upon the seriousness of the situation, and hopefully I'll have good news for you."

Khalid hopes.

There are other things to talk about, so Khalid excuses himself to let the League get back to business, heading out into the house with too much on his mind.

He can't focus. He can't think. He ends up, for lack of something better to do, retiring into the library with some study guides, starting to go over some of the last material he'd studied for his first MCAT. It's the freshest in his mind, and he remembers the vast majority of it, reading over the guide only as a refresher. It's the earlier stuff he's more wary of, expecting that it will take far more focus to remember all of _that._

"Studying?" Thomas calls from the doorway, dragging Khalid out of his distracted state. "I assume for your test?"

"That's the idea," Khalid says, setting the guide aside. He assumes Thomas is there to talk, and he doesn't see the point in continuing to try and study when he knows it isn't going to do any good.

If there's one thing about Thomas which Khalid is sure he could never find any issue with, it's the fact that he _never_ beats around the bush. Thomas always get straight to the point, and it's a refreshing change of pace for Khalid.

"I wanted to make sure you knew you had an out."

"...An out?" He's not sure he understands what Thomas is getting at, and he doesn't want to be wrong, either.

"From all this. From being a... hero. Everything that's happened feels a bit like you don't get a say in things. Like you _have_ to do it. But if you want, you can always step back. Someone else will take over."

Thomas is offering to let Khalid get off the ride, but it's a foolish offer. It would never work for a multitude of reasons: even if he checked out, magic wouldn't accept it. It was, after all, _his_ name that got called. There's no escaping it.

"Doesn't work like that," Khalid says, but it's a very different reason that comes out when he opens his mouth next. He's not even sure where the explanation came from, and yet it did juts the same. "It's like seeing someone bleeding out on the sidewalk. Some people stare, some people run to get help, and some of us run _to_ help."

Everyone in the house is the latter. They're helpers. They see someone in trouble and rush to offer assistance. It's why they're heroes, and whether or not magic was saying his name specifically, Khalid couldn't look away if he tried.

That's what he's learned in his time being Doctor Fate: he can't ignore things, even if it would be easier to do so.

Thomas stares at him, turning the idea over in his head, and then nods.

"Wanted to make sure you knew you had the option, at least." He pauses, then bends down, scooping up one of the study guides and thumbing through.

Khalid isn't sure what compels him to ask. Pure curiosity, maybe?

"Have you ever thought about going back to being a doctor?"

"A few times," Thomas admits. "I used to think that I'd done too much damage, and that I was unfit to be a doctor again. Now I know better... you're never too far gone. But I'm too old to go through all that again, and I doubt I'd be accepted anyway. Felon and all."

Khalid has no idea if Thomas would even be able to, but he supposes it doesn't matter. Thomas _is_ rather old, and going through all the studying, testing, and qualification process again would be exhausting.

Instead, he's just enjoying his retirement... and his grandchildren.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some brief (sort of) eye gore in this chapter.

Khalid dreams that night, and for once he remembers it. He stands atop a dune in what is unquestionably Egypt, the tip of a pyramid barely visible in the distance. He's far from any city, well away from any other human being, completely alone in the desert.

The sand before him parts, opening a way down and revealing old stone. Khalid's frozen in place, standing right where he started, when he hears something call out to him.

_Khalid Nassour._

He wakes panting, soaked in sweat and just as distressed as he was the day before, but the dream lingers. He swears he can still feel the sun on his skin as he slips into the shower, running the water as cold as he can and refusing to move out of the spray until he's shivering.

It's deeply unsettling.

He gets a call from Zatanna before he's even left his room, checking in to make sure he felt it. All he can really do is grunt and confirm that yes, he _did_ feel it, and that he's working on what to do. It's obviously distressing her, and Khalid has to wonder if that's because the manor is effectively magically dampened—protected from what's happening outside.

He helps Will with breakfast again, and then sinks back into the breakfast nook, dozing a bit while Will finishes up. The manor doesn't have any more early morning visitors, but it hardly matters: even if they did, Khalid would likely just ignore them, exhausted beyond reason.

He's still only _just_ awake when Bruce arrives for breakfast, a wide smile on his face and far, _far_ too much energy for Khalid's taste.

"Steve's come to an arrangement with the Egyptian government," he announces once everyone's gathered. "They're uncomfortable with the League going in, so Steve talked them into an alternative. I know the Titans have been eager—"

Damian _and_ Thad are suddenly standing, talking over one another. Khalid catches something along the lines of _really?!_ from Damian, and can't even hope to figure out what Thad's saying. Will reaches up, clamping a hand onto Thad's shoulder and pushing him back into his seat just as Slade does the same thing to Damian, getting both of the boys back in place.

"Yes, really," Bruce says. "The Titans are seen as a more neutral multi-national force. They're also seen as a great deal less threatening... mostly because people are unfamiliar with them. We've also reached out to our contacts in Markovia."

Hold on, what?

"Markovia?" Khalid asks, absolutely baffled. "Why Markovia?" Markovia isn't anywhere near Egypt, and he can't figure out why the two would be connected.

"The King's able to control earth. He's offered his help to us in the past, so it's just a matter of seeing if he's willing to follow through."

The _King?_ They're going to just zip in and see _the king of an entire country?_

Joey's the one who senses his confusion, leaping in to explain things.

 _Will helped the King find his missing sister back in February,_ he signs. _He was the one who helped fix the land under the manor. He's definitely an ally, although I don't know if he'd be willing to help in Egypt._

"Realistically, he's not likely to be able to help. His sister, on the other hand, has similar powers to him and might be willing to assist," Will says simply. "Her status has been a very closed secret, so I'm not sure if she'd be able _or_ willing to come along. Worth a try either way."

The whole idea is... absolutely absurd. They're going to just go ask a king if he wants to help, and then fly down to Egypt maybe with his sister? It feels almost as absurd as _Superman just dropped by to pick up some snacks because he lives just down the road,_ and of all the parts of his life he's struggling to deal with, the fact that people he considered major and influential are just _a part of his life_ is... surreal.

"When's this happening?" Damian blurts, his excitement palpable. Really, the most surprising thing to Khalid is that Damian is actually _more_ excited than Thad is.

"Assuming that Khalid's alright with this course of action, I'll confirm it with the other League members and their associated Titans. Ideally, if everything goes according to plan, you'll be able to leave tomorrow morning."

Tomorrow morning seems so far away. It seems like a lifetime to wait, and the knowledge that he's almost certainly going to have another upsetting dream is unpleasant.

But it's the best situation he can imagine. There's no way things are going to get done sooner, so he just has to be happy things are playing out as well as they are.

It leaves him with the entire rest of the day to sort things out, and Khalid gets to work immediately. He packs his clothes (making a note he's going to have to go shopping again to get some more), his helmet, and then realizes he doesn't even have anything else to pack. He's lived a surprisingly unmaterialistic life, and he's not willing to drag along any of his heavy study guides for what shouldn't be more than a day or two worth of trip.

Damian checks on him later that afternoon, making a point of not looking through Khalid's things when he so clearly wants to.

"You're packed already?" Damian asks.

"Not much to pack. I can't imagine we'll be there more than three days at the most."

"What about things other than clothes?"

"I'll pack toiletries tomorrow morning," Khalid points out, not seeing the point in packing and unpacking them repeatedly. He still needs them, after all.

Damian scrunches up his face, staring up at Khalid as if he thinks Khalid is being deliberately obtuse.

"The helmet is packed," Khalid guesses, and Damian shakes his head.

"Are you not bringing something to do on the flight? It will be quite a long trip, and I can't imagine you'll sleep through the whole thing."

Khalid doesn't know how to respond to that. What does Damian expect him to bring, really? He makes an attempt, but he's fairly sure that he's misunderstanding Damian's point.

"I don't want to bring my study guides, because they could be damaged," he explains. "Plus, they're pretty large." It takes him a second to realize what Damian might mean. "I'm bringing my phone, of course. I'll download a few things."

"Do you not have a _laptop?_ Or a tablet?" Damian scrunches his face up when Khalid doesn't automatically produce one. "My father never gave you one. Remain here."

Before Khalid can utter a word of protest, Damian's stormed right out of his room, clearly on the war path. There's no question what he's going to do, but Khalid feels deeply awkward about the whole thing. It's not like he _needs_ a laptop. He has a phone, and that's more than generous enough. He's already living in their house, eating their food... a laptop is too much.

But of course that's exactly what Damian has when he marches back in. Khalid doesn't know all that much about computers—he's no computer whiz, but he can manage the basics—but it's obvious that the box in Damian's hands is pricy. It's foldable, has a touch screen, and generally looks like some kind of weird hybrid device, and when Damian presents it to him, he balks.

"I can't take that," he insists. "I'm already taking advantage of your kindness—"

"Are you intending to take advantage of the fact that father has a great deal of money?"

The question is so jarring that Khalid actually can't manage a response right away, his mouth hanging slightly open.

"I— what? No, of course not."

"Then you are not taking advantage. You are making use of your resources, and making full use of what is offered to you by friends. If you insisted on not taking this, it would simply go to waste, and it was already purchased and yet not being used. I also imagine the League will wish for you to issue reports on what you find for posterities sake, and I can only imagine that doing them on a phone would be difficult. Similarily, I expect that medical school would wish for you to have one when you get accepted."

"I haven't been accepted—"

"You _will_ be accepted, of that I have no doubt. If you wish, you could consider this payment. This entire misadventure with magic is allowing the Titans to reform, and since Bruce clearly expects that this trip will be safe, is more willing to allow me to go with the team, despite my eye."

"Your... eye?" Khalid has no idea what he's talking about, and feels more than a little lost in the conversation overall.

He isn't expecting Damian to smile in response, and he's _absolutely_ not expecting Damian to reach up, digging his fingers into his _goddamn eye socket and tearing his eye out._

Or not. Khalid lets out a strangled cry just before he registers what he's looking at: it isn't a real eye, just a prosthetic, and Damian holds it up for just a moment before hunching over slightly and popping it back in place.

"I shouldn't do that," Damian says, but he sounds more amused than apologetic. "But I couldn't miss the chance. Did no one tell you about my eye?"

"I— uh, _absolutely not,_ they definitely did not."

He's pretty sure he'd remember _that_ little detail.

"When?"

"The battle with the Kryptonians. I cracked my skull and damaged my eye, so I had to have a prosthetic put in. One would think that the fact that my step-father _also_ has one eye and was once the most feared assassin in the world would be proof enough that it need not hinder me, but you would be wrong. Father has been... very reluctant to allow me into the field again."

Khalid doesn't have to be a parent to understand why. He knew that Damian was hurt, but he didn't realize how badly. A cracked skull causing the loss of an eye is a serious injury, and for someone like Bruce, who already went through the pain of a child _dying..._

Well, his reluctance is understandable, even if Damian doesn't think so.

Even if Khalid knows he can't do nearly enough to balance out everything the Waynes ( _Wilson-Waynes,_ he mentally corrects) have done for him, he can at least try.

"Bruce probably is worried about you getting hurt again. You must have given him a real scare."

Damian scowls, nearly _pouting_ as he glares up at Khalid.

"I know that," he insists. "But I still wish to continue living my life just the same. My step-father's injury did not define him, and mine won't either. He needs to allow me to handle things on my own terms."

It's a deep and complicated issue, and one that Khalid isn't entirely equipped to handle. He's dredging the bottom of his knowledge pool, digging through half-taught lessons about recovery after trauma. It's good to reestablish old patterns where possible, he's sure, so he tries to focus on that.

"He's letting you come here. It shows he has faith in your abilities, even if he's worried about you. Once you've done this, I'm sure there will be other missions, and you can work your way up."

That softens Damian's reaction, and after a moment he simply nods, apparently reassured. Khalid can't tell if Damian genuinely thought Bruce would let him go and one mission and then tell him to stop, or if he's just relieved to hear it from an outside perspective.

Either way, it's enough.

"Take the laptop," Damian says, sliding it into Khalid's hands. "You'll need it to make reports, and I'm sure you'll want to set it up today before we go."

Damian's right: he'll need time to set everything up, after all. _Eventually_ he's going to need a laptop, and it's not as if he has another way to get one.

He'll simply have to find ways to make it up to Bruce eventually, and his first step will be making sure the Titans stay safe on the trip.

"Alright," he says, accepting the laptop and setting it to the side. "I'll focus on that. It'll give me something to do before we leave."

Damian's about ready to go, but he hesitates before he actually does, glancing back to Khalid.

"You aren't bothered by my eye?"

"I'm training to be a surgeon," Khalid points out. "It wouldn't be a very good career for me if I was squeamish."

Damian seems to like that, so he offers a short nod and then ducks out, leaving Khalid alone with a hundred new things to do.


	43. Chapter 43

The tiny itsy-bitsy detail that neither Khalid nor anyone else has thought about on the trip is that Khalid, to his absolute horror, is the adult.

It first becomes apparent when they get to the airport, and Khalid realizes he's going to be in charge of Thad, Damian, and Jon, who've all traveled to the airport together. He's familiar enough with all of them, and each of the boy gets an admonishment to _behave_ from their parents before they're even out of the car.

They meet Diana and Siracca before they've even checked luggage, by which point Khalid has heard Damian ask at least four times why they aren't flying private. Khalid thinks the answer is pretty obvious: the League is _supposed_ to be hands off for the trip, and flying a private plane halfway around the world is not _hands off._

Bruce's willingness to play ball, however, does not extend to seating: Khalid and everyone else have seats up in first class, which Khalid speculates is probably to keep Damian and Thad from going feral when fed something that isn't Will's cooking.

Not that it'll help.

Siracca, the youngest, sticks close to him as they pass through airport security. Their gear has already been shipped, so there's nothing to worry about until they get to customs, which is a _long_ way off.

The first flight isn't even particularly bad: it's short, direct, and they're barely even up in the air before they're descending right back down into DC. Everyone's behaving, their bags get moved along automatically, and of course that's when things go from _doable_ to _exhausting._

They meet the majority of the rest of the team while waiting for their next plane. Tanya and Mia are already there, both older than the majority of the team, although still a few years younger than him. Tanya's the one who makes the biggest point of welcoming him, giving him a firm handshake and introducing herself. She explains her job—monitoring dimensional anomalies—and her position on the team—support and coordination—before introducing him to Mia.

Jackson, the only member of the team Khalid would consider a genuine adult, arrives not long after. He's clearly enjoying himself, and seems excited to see the rest of the team again.

"Soranik's going to meet us there," he explains. "So this is us."

Seven people, the majority of which are under eighteen, is a _lot._ It's a bit like herding cats, except cats aren't normally supposed to be attracting a minimal amount of attention and failing spectacularly. Getting out of Gotham was easy enough, but people _really_ seem to recognize them in DC, their attention caught by the sheer number of people. Most simply stare and then move on with their lives, although one—a very awkward teenager—musters up the courage to shuffle up to Jon and ask if he's really Superboy, completely ignoring the rest of the team.

One they're on the plane—taking up a solid half of first class and drawing even _more_ attention—Khalid allows himself to relax, sinking back into his chair. He pulls out his laptop, earning him an excited grin from Damian, and then sinks back into his seat to read.

Around him, the Titans chatter away. Some of them live close enough to just stop by, but even without trying to listen in, it's clear to him that some haven't seen each other in person in quite some time. They have plenty to catch up on, and plenty of time to do so.

Khalid lets himself sleep, dozing off for a good portion of the flight. They wake him for food (Damian and Thad are _horrified_ by what's on offer), and he's just about to doze off when he notices Siracca peeking over the seat at him.

She's the youngest of the group, and in theory the one he needs to look out for the most. But she's also a demigod, and that puts her in a weight class of her own, even if she hasn't really shown it.

"I can feel it," she murmurs quietly, apparently trying not to draw attention to herself. Damian's in the seat beside Khalid, but he's currently engaged in what looks like some sort of hyper-intense game.

It isn't hard to guess what Siracca is being mysterious about. He can put two and two together: if he could feel _her_ because she was a demigod, she can no doubt feel _him_ the same way.

"The magic?"

She bobs her head in a little nod.

"When you sleep. It's like someone's tugging at you. Not very hard, but... a little bit. Just a little tug."

"Do you know what it is?" He doubts she would, but he makes a point of asking just in case. There's no way to know _for sure_ unless he does, and he's tired of getting caught off guard by things people do or don't know.

She shakes her head, and Damian suddenly leans in between them, squinting between them.

"What are we talking about?"

Siracca sinks back down into her seat, and Khalid wonders if she's nervous about it. It sure _seems_ like it, and he's not entirely sure why she would be. Because it makes her different? Because none of the rest of the team are magic?

"Just what's coming up," Khalid says, brushing away the conversation. "You might be a better one to talk to, though."

"We'll be met at the airport," Damian says with a shrug. "Father is handling things. We should have very little to worry about as far as this situation goes."

Very little isn't _none,_ and Khalid only offers a small grunt, sinking back into his seat and pulling his laptop back out. They still have _hours,_ and the different in time zones is... well, exhausting.

"I'm going to try and sleep," he tells the group. "I'd recommend you all do the same—we'll be landing in the morning by their time, so we may not get a chance to rest up for a while."

He has no idea how long they'll be in Markovia, and it's entirely possible they'll end up flying out before noon.

Better not to risk it, after all.


	44. Chapter 44

Markovia's airport is a modern marvel, obviously recently constructed, but Khalid doesn't have the energy to inspect it as they slog their way to the baggage claim. He's tired, and so is everyone else. Thad's the only one who seems to have any energy, although he's making an _obvious_ effort to not just zip around now that they're nowhere near home.

They _are_ trying to be as low-key as possible, after all.

Which is why the man who meets them is holding a sign that says _Nassour_ and not _Teen Titans._ He actually spots them first, apparently having been told to watch out for a pack of kids who couldn't stick out more if they try. He's a nice man, polite and formal, but he doesn't give his name as he collects up their luggage, carting it out in two loads to two large SUVs. There's some debate among the Titans about where everyone will end up going, which _initially_ ends with Khalid, Mia, Jackson, and Tanya in one car, but Khalid pulls a hard veto on that one.

"We're not having every adult in one car and the rest of you in the other. Mix it up."

There's some protesting, and then everyone shuffles around.

Khalid's not entirely sure where they're going, but he's half expecting they'll end up at the palace. They don't. In fact, they don't really _go_ anywhere at all. The two SUV's drive _around_ the airport, pulling in to the private terminal on the opposite end of the tarmac, and then proceed to unload everything again.

"...Sorry," Khalid asks, interrupting the man who first picked them up. "We're taking off? Already?" Are they getting kicked out? They haven't even _met_ anyone.

"There's a plane waiting to take you to Egypt," the man says, his accent thick. "Things will be explained there." He doesn't seem particularly comfortable speaking in English at all, so Khalid lets the matter drop, even if his nerves are acting up.

There's a private plane waiting for them, and their escort goes right ahead and starts loading their luggage. There isn't, however, anyone waiting for them, so Khalid takes the initiative, heading up into the jet itself, assuming they're going to meet whoever it is they're meeting there.

He's hoping it's the king. It's probably a stupid idea, but it would be _very_ reassuring to have someone with actual authority along for the trip.

The king, of course, is not who he gets. It's a woman—a _girl,_ probably no more than 17—waiting for them. She's blond, relatively petite, and currently sipping a cocktail she's probably too young to have. She also _immediately_ smirks to high heaven when Damian gets on board, letting out a disgusted noise.

Khalid's having trouble following what's going on, and the sudden pile up at the door isn't helpful either. Khalid moves in, taking a seat across from the girl as everyone else settles in. Damian, to Khalid's _intense_ confusion, proceeds to assign seating, placing Tanya and Mia beside the mystery girl.

"Uh, hi," Khalid says, his confusion only deepening by the second. "I'm... Khalid Nassour?"

"Oh I know," the girl says, folding one leg over the other as she finishes up her drink. "The one I'm supposed to take to Egypt. The one who is, in theory, _in charge_ of this expedition."

"She's Tara Markov," Damian says, his scowl at her seeming to be a permanent feature. "The princess of Markovia."

"And don't you forget it," she says, smirking in Damian's direction. "I see _someone_ remembers the last time we took a trip together."

"You already flirted with _most_ of my family," Damian spits. "You will not do the same for the rest."

"That runt? Please, why would I be interested in a _child?"_ Tara says, looking Thad over and then rolling her eyes.

"Uh," Khalid interrupts, confused beyond all reason. "What is even going on?"

Either no one _can_ explain, or no one is _willing_ to explain. Most of the team looks just as confused by what's going on, and Damian's glaring isn't helping.

When no one answers, Khalid tries to focus on what _really_ matters.

"So what are we actually doing? Going to... Egypt, now?"

"Of course," Tara says. "We'll fly in to Sohag International Airport, where we'll meet a team of archaeologists. They're bringing in an American team by pulling them off another dig temporarily. We'll be escorted by the Egyptian team to the Valley—"

"Hold on," Khalid interrupts, already lost despite the _very_ clear explanation. "What about Hermopolis?"

The rest of the team looks absolutely baffled, and Khalid quickly clarifies for them.

"Thoth's capital city. We're going to find the Helmet, but also try and talk to Thoth."

"Oh," Jackson says, his face all scrunched. "I'll just take your word for it."

"Hermopolis is a pain to get to and they already pulled the teams," Tara says with a wave of her hand. "We'll get the dig started, then you can go up to Hermopolis after."

That isn't what he wanted. He wanted to talk with Thoth and _then_ go hunting down the helmet. Thoth is literally a god of _knowledge and magic._ He should be able to help them, and going to see him _after_ is... backwards.

But he's not sure he gets a say. The whole thing is largely out of his hands. He's just along for the ride, and adjusting to it is... going to be hard.

He'll have to make do.

"Alright," he says simply, watching out of the corner of his eye as their bags are secured. "We're going to meet someone there?"

"Like I said, we're meeting a _lot_ of people there. Really, they didn't even need to bring most of you. You're not going to have anything to do, so you're just going to be standing around in the baking heat. Everyone's convinced this is going to take _days,_ but it's not, because I'm going to find the damn tomb you want, unearth it, and we're done. Piece of cake."

It's not going to be a piece of cake. No way is it going to be _easy_ , and Khalid feels a stab of frustration at the idea.

"They're here because we can't just count on things going perfectly. We're dealing with magic and gods and who even knows what. We have to be prepared for the possibility that some kind of monster is going to leap out of the tomb, no matter how crazy it must sound."

How had Kent Nelson's father died in his world? He has no idea, and now he worries he's going to find out.

"Are we even going to a hotel?" Mia asks, raising an eyebrow as she glances between Tara and Khalid.

"Sure, _after_ we take a look," Tara says. "We fly from here," as if to prove a point, the plane starts to taxi out onto the runway, and she doesn't even miss a beat, "to a smaller airport in Egypt. We go through customs there. Then we take a local plane to a smaller airport close to the Valley of the Kings. Someone will take our luggage to the hotel, and we'll meet everyone there. Now, if you're done asking questions, I'm going to sleep."

What?

It's like nine AM and he can't wrap his head around why she'd just... go to sleep.

"Now?" Thad asks, leaning forward to actually be able to see her. "We just got on the plane, we haven't—"

Tara reaches down, pulling a pillow out of a storage cubby, and then turns away, ending whatever conversation Thad was going to have.

Damian just huffs, irritated.

Tara's insistence on sleeping is enough to put any conversation to rest, and Khalid gets to spend the next three hours in relative quiet.

Even if, right then, he hopes for conversation. Anything to keep his mind from running through the options of what's coming next.


	45. Chapter 45

Khalid doesn't _mean_ to fall asleep. He means to stay awake, maybe figure out where things are going to go and how they're going to play out.

But he's been sleeping poorly, constantly dragged from his rest by the weird _messages_ he's getting, and any time he's not engaged he simply nods off.

He only wakes when their wheels hit the runway, jolting him awake with a little gasp.

Someone—Tara, he realizes—lets out a burst of laughter at his response, and Damian glares furiously at her as the plane slows down. He turns, ignoring Tara in favor of looking out the window, and squints.

He doesn't recognize anything, but that isn't saying much.

"Where are we, exactly?"

"Sharm El Sheikh," Tara says with a wave of her hand, "but we're not even going to get to enjoy any of the resorts."

The... resorts? Khalid's absolutely lost, squinting around blearily.

"You can get a brochure when we get into the airport," Tara says. The planes only just stopped and she's already unbuckling, heading to the back to grab her things. "We're taking a local craft from here."

"A local... _private_ craft?" Damian asks hesitantly, twisting around to squint at Tara.

"Obviously. I'm a princess, I'm not flying economy."

Khalid has absolutely no idea where they actually _are_ as they're unloaded from the plane, their luggage dropped onto a dolly that's brought along just behind them. Tara leads the way, the only one who seems to genuinely know what's going on, and they draw a fair amount of attention as they reach the terminal itself. It's a private plane, but not a private terminal, and there are ordinary people just walking around... and a lot of them are gawking.

A lot of them are also very clearly tourists, sticking out from the locals like a sore thumb. They're all in short shorts and ridiculously large sunglasses, and Khalid tries to sink into the ground as many of them stop right where they're walking to stare at the Titans going by.

He snags a brochure on the way through, but when they get to their gate Tara immediately makes a face.

"Why are there _people_ here?" She asks, looking back at Khalid like he'd know. He's just as clueless as her, but he's not willing to let her to be the one to handle it. He heads right up to the podium (which thankfully has no line to speak of), and flags down one of the people organizing the flight.

It takes the better part of ten minutes for him to work out what happened. The company they're flying with offers small charted flights, but that wasn't what they were booked for. Instead, they've been booked on a private flight that doesn't guarantee exclusivity, just that the tickets won't be sold publicly. The others on board are government employees, going from one airport to the next on the government's dime.

Khalid doesn't have an issue, but he knows Tara's going to, so he mentally runs through the best way to present it before returning to the group.

Even if it does mean lying.

"There was an issue with our original flight," Khalid says as the group gathers around. "They've made space for us on this one, but we'll have to share with some government officials. It would ideal if everyone would be polite and _quiet_ for the hour it will take us to get to our destination."

Maybe it doesn't matter, but Khalid's halfway distracted, trying to figure out where they even are. They're definitely not in Cairo—maybe to the west of it? He's pretty sure that's the only reason his lie is even halfway believable, because he's so distracted trying to figure out what's going on that he doesn't have time to look guilty.

"Really? You want us to _share?"_ Tara says, absolutely horrified. "It's bad enough having all of you around when we could be doing this with two people."

"Ah, I see how it is." Damian's voice is _not_ encouraging, and Khalid's sure things are about to come to blows. His voice is just _dripping_ with smugness. "You don't want anyone else to be witness to your behavior, do you? It would reflect quite poorly on your brother and your country, after all."

What?

Really, Khalid has to give it to Damian. Not _only_ is he insulting Tara, he's managed to do so in such a way that means she _has_ to go along with the flight and behave while doing so. She _has_ to, because that's the only way to prove Damian wrong, and she seems nothing if not intent on doing that.

"How _dare you,"_ she hisses. "Why would I care what my brother's reputation is like? You really think that matters to me? I'll do what I damn well please."

So much for that plan. Khalid can tell it's going to get worse from there, so he steps in between them, holding his hands up before turning to face Tara.

"Tara, I know you don't want to be here. None of us doubts that for a second. But if you refuse to go on this plane, it's going to just drag it out. We'll miss the people we're supposed to meet, and things are going to get a lot more complicated." Appealing to her decency doesn't seem likely to work: the fact that things could be _genuinely at risk_ isn't going to move her.

The fact that her bickering is going to force her to stay with them longer, though? That might work.

She scowls at them, but her shoulders seem to relax, no longer so tense.

"Fine," she says. "One hour, we land, we get this over with. I want to be back in two days _at most._ One day if we can manage."

Getting things done in a day seems like a _big_ stretch, but he nods anyway. They can try, at least. No harm in that.

The plane boards not long after, and Khalid herds them all on board, happy to be back on their way.


	46. Chapter 46

It's barely noon and Khalid is _exhausted._ Despite Tara implying she'd behave, she spends almost the entire flight bickering with Damian, much to the annoyance of the other passengers. Khalid attempts to intervene a few times, and then opts to simply ignore them, turning his attention to other things. He finishes his chapter and decides to check out the brochure, skimming through the detail until he gets to the map.

He jerks straight upright, startling the other passengers on the _very_ small plane, and he flushes with embarrassment, sinking back into the seat. Only once people have mostly looked away does he lean over, lightly elbowing Jackson in the side.

"We were in Egypt?" He asks, trying to hide his alarm. "Not Kahndaq?"

"Huh?" is the response he gets, and Jackson looks to Damian.

Khalid takes his cue, turning to Damian and restating his question. Damian's face scrunches up, and it's clear he doesn't understand the question.

"You mean the area?"

"The country."

Khalid lays the brochure out, and the Titans—excluding, of course, Tara—huddle together as Khalid gestures to the map. "Almost the entire Sinai peninsula should be a country called Kahndaq, only it's just Egypt?"

"Are you implying your world had a whole new country in your world?"

Khalid's trying not to be too shaken up, but it's... difficult. It's a whole _country_ that's just... not there.

But thinking about it, it makes sense: the history of Kahndaq is deeply tied to Teth-Adam, and with magic being so minimal...

"Did it ever even exist?"

"Historically, yes," Damian clarifies. "Thousands of years ago. But it's not commonly known, since most of it was conquered by Egypt."

It's just another thing that the loss of magic has considerably changed, but it does give him a good clue: whatever suppressed magic, it did so a _long_ time ago.

"So what was the deal with Kahndaq in your world?" Mia asks. "Same sort of place?"

"It was... I guess _ruled_ by a..." Superhero? Supervillain? He was a literal dictator, but on the scale of evil to good, Black Adam is hard to place. "A powered individual. Imbued with magic, which I guess is why it doesn't exist. He... he's an ally sometimes and an enemy other times, but his dedication to his country was second to none. It's weird to realize that it just... doesn't even exist."

"Without magic, many things are different," Siracca says quietly. "There must be other differences, but... smaller things. Things you don't notice right away, because you don't think to look for them."

He can't begin to imagine what else he's missed. Probably a lot. If it was someone else here, someone with a better magical education... maybe it's something he should ask Zatanna about.

He ends up spending the rest of the flight writing down possible differences between the worlds, tracing back what he knows about magic. There's no Parliaments. The gods seem _vastly_ weaker. No Kahndaq. There's probably no Jason Blood, which makes him wonder if demons even _actually exist_ here. He considers asking, and decides it might alarm any of the other passengers who understand English, so he files it away for later.'

There's just so _much._ At least some mages seem to exist, but only weakly, and he's not sure how much that carries over. How much of someone like Constantine depends on magic?

He wonders if he's about to find out.

They land in Egypt proper right on time, and it's to Khalid's _immense_ relief that someone's waiting for them with another _Nassour_ sign. They're young, probably a college student, and the American flag stitched to their sleeve tells Khalid they're probably part of the American team who have been pulled off their current dig to assist. They also without a doubt recognize at least _most_ of the Titans, looking at them all excitedly.

"Welcome!" The young man says, gesturing for them to follow him. "I'm Adam. Let's grab your bags and load up, since the bus is already waiting."

"A bus?" Thad asks. Even though he's not supposed to be zipping, he zips up beside them anyway, startling the woman back a half step.

"For taking all your things... and you. It'll drop you at the dig site, and then take your things back to the hotel. It'll pick you up in the evening and take you back there."

"Like we're tourists," Mia observes. "You'll take us sightseeing while the hotel handles the check-in for us."

Adam seems momentarily taken aback by that, staring at Mia for a second before offering a shrug.

"I guess so? I mean, I never really thought it like that. It's a pretty unusual situation, though. I mean, you guys are..." He pauses, looking them over with obvious scrutiny. "Basically celebrities? And we were supposed to be unearthing— You know what, I'm going to just tell you on the bus."

Adam is good to his word. He waits until they've collected the baggage, loaded themselves onto a raggedy bus, and are on their way before he starts to explain. Most of the team is interested enough to listen in, although Tanya seems a bit bored—probably because it's so _below_ her.

Which it kind of is. Most of what Adam explains is, to say the least, a very surface level understanding, suitable for a team composed _mostly_ of children.

"So I think everyone knows about the Valley of Kings. Super famous historical site, Tutankhamen was buried there, so were a bunch of other pharaohs. There's sixty-five tombs we know of in the main valley, but there's actually a _second_ valley, which only has a few small tombs. It's honestly not particularly popular to dig in, because most people think there's more to find in the East Valley."

"I assume our coordinates are in the west?"

"They are," Adam confirms. The trip's a long and slow one, and Khalid's happy for a distraction. "We aren't aware of any tomb there, but as far as we can tell no one's dug there, so you've got a small army of archaeology students marching around the site trying to figure out where to start digging. We're sort of hoping when you get there you'll have a vision and point to the ground or something, because if not you're going to be here for a while."

"How long?" Thad asks, leaning forward ever so slightly.

"Not long at all," Tara interrupts, which makes it clear she's been listening the whole time. "I'm going to get there, find this tomb, and clear a path. Done."

Adam stares, and Khalid lets out a weary sigh.

"Tara is a... she can manipulate earth, including sand. I think she also has senses? So she offered to come help us locate things in a more... efficient way. This is relatively time-sensitive."

Adam squints at Tara, and Tara simply smirks right back.

"Will that... damage the tomb?" He asks carefully. "You'd have to talk to Saied about it. I'm not sure he'd be comfortable with that, but in this sort of circumstance, where you're looking for something in particular... a demonstration may help things."

"I'll dredge up some other tomb for you," Tara says with a wave of her hand. "Then they'll be begging me to come back and help more."

Khalid offers a quick hum of acknowledgement. Even if Tara's been, to say the least, a _pain,_ that doesn't make her wrong. Her abilities, if used correctly, could be a huge game-changer in terms of archaeology, but they _also_ mean relying entirely on her whims.

It takes them hours to read the Valley, pulling in down the bumpy side road. There are tourists, but they're being kept away, giving the bus plenty of room and the group their privacy. They're able to unload from the bus, Khalid slinging his bag over his shoulder, and descend down towards where the others are waiting without being spotted.

The first thing that Khalid notices is hard to miss: a young woman whose _neon_ green outfit sticks out like a sore thumb among the muted browns of the rock. The fact that she's an alien is somehow _less_ noticeable than how vibrant her costume is, and the moment they turn the corner and see her, half the Titans break off from the group, sprinting ahead.

Thad, of course, gets there first, alarming everyone _else_ down in the valley.

"Soranik! You're here!"

"You were told she'd be here!" Jackson calls after Thad, jogging to catch up. It's undeniably disruptive, and Khalid winces as everyone stops what they're doing to gawk at the gaggle of teenagers who are now parading their way through an active dig site, enjoying a happy team reunion. Adam skips right past them, heading for where an older man is discussing with a much younger woman, and the old man looks up, raising an eyebrow at Adam and gesturing to the group.

Khalid joins them, skipping the happy reunion he has no place in and heading for Adam. Up close, he's immediately distracted by the woman's hijab, a bright red that contrasts harshly with the standard wear of the group.

"I'm sorry about that," he blurts, trying not to die of embarrassment. "They haven't seen each other in some time."

The old man signs something Khalid can't follow—it doesn't like ASL at all and probably isn't—and up close he can see a vicious scar running across the man's neck. It's similar to Joey's, only a _lot_ larger.

Maybe he's looking too closely, because the woman beside the old man clarifies.

"Saied was attacked by a grave robber. They tried to kill him, but failed. He's mute, which is why I'm here to interpret."

"Sorry," Khalid blurts again, taking a moment to draw a deep breath and generally pull himself together. "Someone I know has a similar scar, and is also mute. I thought it was... an interesting coincidence."

The old man opens his mouth, letting out a wheezing laugh that isn't far off Joey's. Apparently Thad thinks the same, because he's suddenly behind Khalid, leaning out to stare at Saied.

"His brother, to be specific," Khalid adds. "My name is Khalid Nassour. I suppose I'm effectively the leader for the group?"

Saied is obviously in charge, so Khalid keeps his focus on him, rather than watching the interpreter. Even if he doesn't understand the specific sign language he's using, facial expressions are important, and give a lot of context for what his interpreter is saying.

"My name is Adrianna Tomaz, and I'm Saied's interpreter. His full name is Saeid Kadesh, and he's the representative of the Ministry of Antiquities. The head of the American team is in the tent, so if you'll gather your people and pull them in to discuss, we can get things underway."

Knowing what he does about Saied's importance, Khalid wonders to himself if Adrianna's choice of hijab was intentional. The bright red sticks out, and with her always being at Saied's side, it means a quick glance will let people find him.

It's also, of course, completely ruined by the Titan's presence there.

Khalid waves to Tanya, who turns to the rest of the team and draws their attention. Even without being able to clearly hear them, it's obvious enough what she's doing, and in short order they're all heading over to Khalid. He doesn't even let them reach him, pointing to the white tents that have been set up for shade, and then heading over himself.

There's a lot to talk about before the digging ever starts.


	47. Chapter 47

The woman in charge of the American team is more or less what he's expecting, as far as stereotypes go. She's got long brown hair pulled up in a bun, glasses, and she looks to be about middle aged. She reminds him strongly of his mother's coworkers, one of the ones that's taking things very seriously, a sharp contrast to her own style, and the fact that she's leaning over a table with a large map of the valley, adding notes in red pencil only adds to that idea. She glances up when they start filing in, straightening up.

It's a tight fit with the entire team inside, and they're standing shoulder to shoulder just behind Khalid, letting him take the lead. Even Tara seems uninterested in being involved, letting him be the one to speak.

"I assume you've already met our host?" The woman asks, glancing to Saied.

"I did introductions with Saeid outside," Khalid confirms. "My name is Khalid Nassour, and this is—"

He hesitates, glancing back to the Titans. Does he need to introduce them?

Saied clearly figures out why he's hesitating, because Adrianna speaks a moment after he looks away.

"We can do full introductions later. For now, we were hoping to lay out what exactly it is we're looking for, and _why._ Mr. Wayne was cagey on the details, and implied they were on a need-to-know basis."

And obviously, they now need to know.

Khalid has to take a second, unsure of where even to start. How much do they know? He decides after a moment it might be best to start at the very beginning, so he works from there.

"I'm from another dimension," he starts, slinging his bag off his shoulder and setting it on the edge of the table, pulling it open. "I'm also a mage. I do magic, and I do so with... well, I'm tied to Thoth. I'm supposed to have the blood of the pharaohs through my father's side, but I've never been clear on exactly what that entails. The connection is there, either way."

Adrianna glances to Saied, and then back to Khalid himself.

"Do you speak Egyptian Arabic?"

Khalid wishes the tent had a window to jump out of, and he picks his words very, very carefully.

"I can... understand most of what is said," he admits. It won't help with Saied, obviously, but others it might. "I wouldn't say I could speak it."

Being _conversational_ from his father's lessons is not even in the same ballpark as being fluent, and Khalid would rather drop dead than attempt to speak any in front of _actual Egyptians_ who speak it as their first language. No, English will do _just_ fine.

"So you're connected to Thoth. Why the Valley of the Kings, then? What are we looking for?"

Khalid pulls out the helmet, setting it down on the table. It's still an impressive thing, made of a metal that looks a great deal like gold but probably isn't, and everyone _around_ the table stares at it accordingly.

"This was the helmet of a scribe known as Nabu. His title was the _scribe of Thoth,_ and he was..." Khalid hesitates, well aware that he's talking to _historians_ who are probably going to think he's even more crazy then he already sounds. "Probably not human. I know, from his stories, that he served the pharaohs around the reigns of Khafra and Ramesses II, but I don't have an exact timeline. He was also a mage, and he had a lot of power, and a strong connection to Thoth. The helmet I have here... ah, contained the soul of my world's Nabu, and I'm hoping to find this world's helmet in the tomb, and forge a connection with _this_ world's Nabu."

None of the people he's speaking to look particularly impressed. All of them are giving him _very_ skeptical looks, even with the fact that he has not one but two space aliens standing just behind him. Maybe it's just that much harder to believe because it hits closer to home: this is their life's work, and he's throwing in a _did you know one of their advisor's was a wizard?_ wrench.

Siracca nudges him from behind, her voice soft. So soft he's surprised he can hear it: it sounds like she's whispering in his ear, but she hardly moves.

"Tell them about the dream."

"Something's happened with... magic itself," he explains. "Multiple mages and those connected with magic have reported hearing my name in their dreams, as well as sense of... foreboding. Unease. Something's gone wrong, and when I... ah, reached out, I knew it was in Egypt. We followed a trail, and determined that almost a hundred years ago, an archaeologist that was working alone found a tomb here. When he entered the tomb with his son, his son became posessed by something and tried to trigger a trap. They retreated from the tomb, and when they returned later, the entrance had collapsed."

"Because of the trap?" 

Khalid shrugs.

"His notes were... very scattered. He intended to return, but never did. We only have the coordinates, no pictures."

"With that sort of information, we could be here for months," the woman says with a shake of her head. "Please tell me you have something more then _that._ I was under the impression that this would be handled in a... reasonable amount of time."

"That's why I'm here," Tara announces, apparently done with letting Khalid talk. "I'll unearth the tomb inside of a few minutes, and then you and all the others can go poking around in it. Problem solved, we're leaving before nightfall."

Neither Saied nor the American representative seem convinced, so Tara simply clenches her fist, and a stream of sand flows up off the floor of the tent, swirling through the air in order to spell out her name.

Or her nickname, anyway: _Terra._

"...Well, this will be an unusual dig," the American representative says after a moment's hesitation. "Why don't we... go see if you can locate the entrance. It's possible the coordinates were off."

The heat's clearly starting to get to the Titans, because she makes a point of stopping on her way out, looking them over with a shake of her head.

"It might be better for you to stay in here. The last thing I want is for any of you to be getting heat stroke—there's some water in the cooler over there, so please help yourself, but don't be wasteful."

"I'll go with you," Soranik says, but the others mostly opt to stay in the shade. Soranik's probably the best choice anyway: she's a Green Lantern, and her constructs have plenty of use.

Tara leads the way, and Adrianna calls out, drawing the attention of those in the area and having them clear out from the designated area. It's already been marked off, but it's a _very_ large area—a huge portion of cliff and flat ground, and there's no obvious signs of something that might be identifiable as a tomb.

Khalid and the others trail behind, stopping just short as Tara simply climbs over the rope, heading into the space.

"I never did introduce myself?" The head of the American team says, offering her hand, which Khalid shakes. "Helena Sandsmark. I've been running digs out here for quite a few years, and this is going to be the most unusual by far."

"We tend to do that," Khalid agrees. "Everywhere we go, things get... strange."

"I can see that."

Tara doesn't appear to be doing anything obvious, just standing in the center of the area and... well, standing there. Her arms are slightly out from her body, hands flat to the ground.

Khalid doesn't talk. No one else does, either, but there's an awful lot of awkward glancing around. No one's sure if Tara's actually doing something or just making them wait, least of all Khalid himself.

And then there's a _rumble._ For a moment, Khalid thinks it's a pulse of magic, but then everyone reacts as well. It's not a significant enough motion to shift anything, but they all clearly feel it, even if no one's sure where it's from.

And then they all see it for themselves. The earth itself splits open just to the right of Tara, the earth itself moving out of the way. Sand and stone are shoved apart, a parting of the red sea in miniature, depicted by the earth itself. 

It's amazing, but also terrifying. Tara clearly wields an extreme amount of power, and he's not the only one unsettled by what's happening. Helena Sandsmark's chewing on his lip, and the rest of the group isn't doing much better. The pit Tara's making continues to grow, the sand and stone she's displacing piling up on either side, and then she abruptly stops, stretching out and cracking her neck.

"Done!" She announces, spinning in place to smile at them with an undeniably smug look. "The entrance was caved in, but that's all fixed now. Probably intentional, if I had to guess—very _trap-esque,_ if I do say so myself."

Tara doesn't even wait for them to look over her work, walking right past them towards the tent where the Titans are waiting. Khalid spots Thad and Jon peeking out from behind the flap, but they duck back in when they see Tara coming.

Saied steps up to the base of the hole Tara's made, and Khalid follows, peering down below. There are steps, a clear path of stone, and it descends down only a few feet before meeting pure stone that contrasts sharply with the desert around it. It's a darker grey, set up in what is obviously a doorway. There's no actual _door,_ but from the angle Khalid's at there's nothing to see.

Just one very dark, very foreboding entrance to a place Khalid isn't sure he should be going.


	48. Chapter 48

Almost immediately, the question becomes _who's going first,_ and before anyone can start genuinely discussing it, Khalid butts in with the most relevant information possible.

"In my world, two people went in and only one came out, so we have to reasonably assume there's _something_ deadly in there... a trap, or some kind of other danger." He regrets not asking how Sven Nelson died in his own world: it had never seemed relevant, and any mention of the man had always upset Kent. It wasn't as if he could have known it would be important, but it still feels like a missed chance.

"A trap," Adrianna interprets, "seems likely. It wasn't uncommon for the tombs to include deterrents against grave-robbers. If the man inside was as powerful as you've said, the traps would be all the more important. He might have had artifacts or other things of value buried with him, and if he was significant enough to be well known across the lives of many pharoahs, his burial would have been well known."

Khalid knows that just saying it is going to make everyone look at him like he's mad, but he's pretty sure they're past that. Tara just pulled the earth open with her mind, and _aliens_ are just par for the course.

"I'm not sure he's dead."

Helena squints at him, and she's entirely justified in doing so.

"Elaborate."

"Nabu is... complicated. Complex. I'm not sure of the circumstances of his _burial,_ but he was still alive to some extent in the modern day of my world. So it's possible he... changed form." He offers a shrug, because that's all he's got. He'd be genuinely surprised if they find a mummy: he's half expecting to find no body at all, just the helmet sitting on a pedestal or something.

"So how are we doing this?" Soranik asks, her ring throbbing a bright green, clearly ready to go.

"It would be better if you had an archaeologist escorting you," Adrianna says, and then Saied glances between and Helena and Khalid. "I hope it wouldn't sound like I was putting you at risk if I suggested Miss Sandsmark go?"

"Not at all," Helena says immediately. "Frankly, I'd have been annoyed if you ignored me. For something of this scale, it's probably better to have someone experienced on hand." She eyes Soranik and Khalid warily, and then nods.

"Shield her," Khalid says, turning to Soranik. "Just... make a bubble or something. If the roof caves in or something..."

"I've got it," Soranik insists. She falls in just behind Helena, and encases her in a literal bubble of green light. Khalid gets one after a moment, and he follows them down into the opening.

The light of the bubble serves a second, very useful purpose, lighting up the space around them, and almost immediately Khalid is disappointed.

It's not a tomb. It's barely a _room,_ for that matter. Everything he's been imagining about what an ancient Egyptian burial might be like has been tossed on the ground and stomped on. The walls are plain, unadorned stone. The entire area is just a single large room—maybe ten feet by ten feet—with very little actually in it. The only things of any sort of interest is a pedestal set off to the right, with pegs sticking out horizontally near the top like some sort of old fashioned winch, and the statue.

The statue dominates the room. It's pure white, looking all too much like it's been carved out of ivory, and it towers over them all. Khalid estimates that it's probably eight or nine feet tall, and depicts someone who looks a lot like an ordinary human man.

Khalid's second impression, staring up at the statue, is less charitable. There's something slightly _off_ about the figure, the proportions just out range for what would be considered normal. The arms, at his sides, seem too long. His eyes are slightly too round, and too high set, giving him very little forehead. His feet, when Khalid stoops to inspect, only have four toes, but otherwise look normal enough. The overall feel of the statue is less human and more _something trying to be human,_ which leaves Khalid feeling ever so slightly baffled.

There's a sense of disappointment in the air, and it takes Khalid a moment to understand why: there's no helmet, and he can't feel a shred of magic from the room itself. The _area_ seems ever so slightly magical, but it's not as if the statue is lighting up his senses the way he'd hoped. It just appears to be a statue, and that leaves very little to look at.

"I'm not quite sure what to make of this," Helena says after a moment, shaking her head. "It's all very, very strange, but I suppose I should be thankful I'm not going to be hear for an extended period of time... my daughter was hoping I'd be home on schedule next week."

"There's not much to see," Soranik mutters, "so it seems like you'll be able to meet her on time."

Khalid keeps waiting, hoping for something to happen, but nothing does. The statue is just a statue, so he wanders over, inspecting the pedestal with its obviously-meant-to-be-pushed spokes. He hasn't made much progress when Helena makes a noise of surprise, and Khalid turns back to find her pointing at the roof over the entranceway.

"It was made to collapse. Looking at the way it's constructed, this is _intentionally_ a worse design then what they had available. Considering how it's placed... I'd wager it was intended to come down if anyone entered, trapping thieves inside."

That's... something.

"Does that mean they did think he was dead?" Maybe he's wrong. Maybe Nabu's just dead, and there's no helmet. Maybe it's Thoth calling for him.

"Hard to say. I'm going to pull in a few experts to look over the mechanics of that pillar, and the statue itself, if you'll move to the side."

Khalid feels useless as he stands off on the empty side of the room, Soranik with him. The bubbles are gone, abandoned but obviously ready to go at a moment's notice, and he has... nothing to do. He feels like he's made an error somewhere along the line, some flaw in his thinking that's lead to this.

To wasting everyone's time, standing in an empty room with a weird statue that might not even be _related_ to whatever crisis is lurking on the horizon.

"Soranik, can you watch my body? I'm going to try and... meditate. See if I can feel anything out." He's not restricted by normal human senses, and she makes sure he gets room as he sits down on the dusty old stone, crossing his legs and taking a deep breath.

Bad plan, and he coughs, drawing the attention of the other five people now in the relatively small room. They stare, and Khalid squeezes his eyes shut, trying to ignore the fact that his every action is being observed. He's _in charge,_ however weak that feels.

He needs to do something.

It takes a while for him to zone out, to stop focusing on every little sound he can hear. Shoes over stone. A polite and heavily muffled cough from one of the archaeologists. The click of a camera, photographing part of the room.

It fades away, and Khalid tries to focus on a sense he's rarely had reason to look to since his arrival in this world.

The feeling of magic is so dull it's hard to even find. Normally, opening up his senses feels a bit like opening his eyes an staring into the sun; overly intense, requiring focus to bring it down to a reasonable level. Here it's different, more like letting his eyes adjust to see in the darkness, but eventually he _can_ feel it, faint as it is: a pulse of the earth below him. He reaches out, trying to find more, and does. Somewhere behind and above him, Siracca waits in the tent, her inherent magic easy enough to pick out. There's another source near her, but much duller, which Khalid speculates might be Jackson. Atlanteans aren't _as_ magical, but there's still something there just the same.

Siracca and Jackson (assuming it is him) work like tuning forks, letting him refine his senses, and only once he's adjusted to them does he turn his attention to the room. He's not quite astrally projecting, but it's similar enough, his sense of _location_ in the room strangely present as he mentally examines it. The pillar is nothing, no more magic than the walls or the floor, but in the statue he finds something else.

He finds nothing at all.

There's a level of latent magic in everything, the same way that even at night there's _some_ amount of light, but the statue is different. The statue is a black hole, a _void_ of magic, the absence of it complete and absolute. Examining it mentally provides no leads, so he follows his first lead, opening his eyes and speaking out loud for the first time in almost a half an hour.

"Could someone go get Siracca? The little girl."

His own magic is unlikely to be of much use for any sort of testing, but Siracca's powers are more consistent. Someone's set up a lamp near the doorway, and he realizes that Saied is present, along with Adrianna, and Helena is nowhere to be seen.

"Is something going on?" Adrianna asks, not interpreting for once.

"There's something off about the statue," Khalid explains, stepping up to stand in front of it. "It doesn't have _any_ magic at all. Something like... well, everything has at least some magic in it, and this just doesn't. I've never seen that before, barring some kind of... anti-magic spell."

"And Siracca's magic?" Soranik guesses, earning a nod from Khalid.

"I want her to send a small gust of wind against the side. It shouldn't cause any damage, but we should be able to observe how the statue reacts to it. It might absorb the wind, or nullify it completely."

"We're sure that's safe?" Adrianna interprets, and Saied looks less than enthused by the course of action. He doesn't even wait for a response, signing to Adrianna, who begins directing everyone to back right out, vacating the tomb while they investigate the statue. Some are obviously annoyed to be interrupted, but they all leave in short order, filing out as Siracca comes down.

He doesn't know much about Siracca, but she's eager to be of assistance, and once he's explained what he wants her to do, she's happy to do it. Everyone else moves to the far wall from the statue, watching closely as she prepares herself, taking a deep breath before projecting a gust of wind towards the statue. Khalid can feel it on his skin, but a moment later the wind simply stops, and Siracca frowns at the statue.

"Absorbed?" Adrianna asks, turning to Khalid for confirmation.

"Absorbed," he confirms. He doesn't need to be focusing on the flow of magic to know that much. Whatever magic touches the statue vanishes, and his suspicions are only rising by the second.

It's not the statue itself that interests him, but the purpose of it. The statue is _absorbing_ the ambient magic, constantly drawing it in, and yet it still shows no signs of magic itself.

Which makes Khalid think that whatever is _inside_ the statue has to be _extremely_ magical in nature.

"You aren't going to like this, but I think we need to crack the statue open."

Saied very evidently does _not_ like it. The man goes pale, and then a moment later goes red, his anger apparent on both his face and in his signs.

"It's a priceless artifact that has only just been discovered," Adrianna explains, even if Khalid already knows as much. "It's also completely untouched. There's plenty that could be learned from it, and _damaging_ it on a hunch—"

"It isn't a hunch," Khalid says, trying to sound more confident than he is. "The magic is being absorbed, and magic doesn't just stop existing. It's going somewhere, and the shape of the statue, set away from the wall, means that the only place that magic could be going is _inside_ the statue. I think this might have been... I don't know, either creating or recharging the helmet. This could—"

"Could isn't enough," Adrianna states simply. "We can't let you destroy something on a _could."_

Frantically, Khalid tries to come up with an answer. A solution.

The one he comes up with sounds frankly insane, even to him.

"What if Thoth says its okay? This is Thoth's temple. If I ask him, and he says that it's alright—"

Saied makes a face. Adrianna at least manages to be slightly more diplomatic.

"We'd have nothing but your word."

"You'd have more than my word. I could have proof, if you'd let me."

But he's already losing them. Saied isn't interesting in letting Khalid test his theory, and the worst part is that Khalid can't even blame him for it. They've only just met, and Khalid _knows_ he must sound crazy. Even in a world with aliens and amazons and atlanteans wandering the Earth, communing with a _god_ feels like a far cry from reality.

But he needs this. He needs the truth, even if he knows that a part of that _need_ is his own selfish desire for a connection to his own world. A link. Something to hold onto.

So he reaches out with every bit of magic he has, calling for Thoth. For an answer. For approval. He's in the land Thoth once helped rule, the one he stood watch over, and it's there that his magic is the strongest. Where his statues still stand. Where his city still remains.

And it's from Thoth that he gets his answer.

"You never found out what happened to the man who cut your throat," Khalid says, a certainty in his voice that for once isn't at all unwarranted. "He returned home to America, to the employer who'd hired him to steal the artifacts in the first place, and laid low for only a short while. He ended up fighting with the man who hired him over the man's refusal to pay him, and they both perished in the fire. His greed was his undoing, and while it cannot return your voice, you can rest easy knowing that he will endanger no one else."

Saied seems stunned, but Khalid isn't finished. It only half feels like he's the one speaking: in another way, he feels like a mouthpiece, the words flowing _through_ him rather than _to_ him as he turns to Adrianna.

"Your brother is alive. He was taken in by a family in Faiyum. He works for the football club there as a ticket seller. If you go, you will find him."

Somehow, the few words he's spoken about Adrianna's brother's fate are a thousand times more convincing than anything he said to Saied. Adrianna makes a small, pained noise, and leans against the older man, who wraps an arm around her shoulders, giving her support.

Khalid can't understand Saied's signs, but he can imagine what he man is saying, his glare furious.

_If you're lying..._

"He doesn't lie," Khalid says simply, and after a moment Saied simply shakes his head, gesturing towards the statue in the most blatant _go ahead_ he can imagine.

Khalid doesn't let himself wait for anything else. He has to take the chance while he has it, and apparently Soranik has a similar thought. In front of him, a hammer and chisel appear, made of green light and yet perfectly solid, and he takes them in hand, approaching the statue with only a quick glance over his shoulder towards Soranik, and a nod of thanks.

Khalid presses the chisel to the center of the statue, just above the navel, lines the hammer up, and strikes it home.

Everything goes white.


	49. Chapter 49

Khalid's sense of disorientation is extreme, and he has to fight back the urge to vomit as he adjusts to... whatever's just happened.

He's genuinely not really sure, and it takes him a few bleary and very confusing seconds to orient himself, which isn't helped by the fact that he's no longer on the ground. He's floating—definitely not hovering, but floating under no power of his own—in a void.

There's almost nothing to look at, so his attention is immediately drawn to what's in front of him.

For a moment, he thinks that it's this world's version of Doctor Fate, and then he realizes that he's wrong. The helmet is unmistakable, as is the gold cloak billowing behind it, and the amulet he's seen Kent wearing.

But there's not a _person_ inside them. The cloak seems to be draped over someone's shoulders, but it's simply giving the impression of a person, rather than there actually being one there.

Even so, he knows the helmet is watching him.

"Nabu?"

The helmet doesn't react, but Khalid gets the impression it's observing him anyway, so he tries again.

"Nabu. I want to speak with you."

Something brushes against his magic, like a finger brushing against his arm only a thousand times more intimate. He shudders involuntarily at the probing touch, the sensation of something in his _core_ too hard to shake.

"Khalid," a voice whispers in his mind. "You came at last. I thought you would never come."

It's Nabu, without question. The same _voice,_ even if it isn't actually being spoken aloud.

"I didn't know where to go," Khalid admits. "I couldn't find you. I thought... I thought you wouldn't exist."

"I always exist. In every world, a part of me. This world is simply... weaker."

Weaker.

"Is it you who was calling me?"

There's the sensation of a nod, and Khalid stops trying to look with his eyes, surrendering himself to the _feeling._ He's in a place that may or may not even exist, but it's still undeniably magic. Once he stops wasting his time holding onto his mundane senses, things become clearer. Nabu feels weaker than what he's used to, but also more defined: more of an individual rather than a force of nature.

"Tell me what's happening."

The answer comes not in words, but in _understanding._ Khalid simply _understands_ his place in the world: that they are on the edge of the universe, not in the sense of space, but in the sense of something much larger. It's as if he can see all the different worlds that exist, and just how _vast_ it all is. The scale of it is staggering, but it's the other side that alarms Khalid more: an underside. A reflection.

"A world is created," Nabu explains, "if it succeeds—if it truly comes together—than it rises and becomes part of the multiverse. If it fails, it descends, and is destroyed, the pieces reused. This is not a matter of good or evil, but one of stagnation. Of the world falling, festering with rot. Nightmare worlds, where there can be nothing but suffering as the end state for all beings. This cycle was disrupted, and on other worlds, the occupants war against this new status quo, wishing to restore the cycle even as those very nightmare worlds fight back, wishing to establish themselves as true worlds, even at the cost of all those who still live. This world, however, stands untouched."

Khalid doesn't need to ask why. Individual pieces are beginning to come together. Things he should have taken as clues. The world disconnecting from the others. Ra's ability to return when the others couldn't. His own strange arrival, orchestrated by his world's Nabu.

He's suddenly very, _very_ aware of the fact that he is outside of Nabu's shield, in a space between worlds. That all of Nabu's talk of _the nightmare worlds fighting back._

It means nothing good, and he's sure of that much.

"Why am I here?"

"To save this world. By now, you must have recognized the weakness of this world's magic. I have used my own to shield it, but as our enemies rise against us, my magic is no longer strong enough. The shield is failing. I drew you and your companions in, trusting that you would be the one to help."

Khalid all but glows with pride. This is what he'd hoped for: a purpose. A _reason_ for everything he's gone through. He can fix things, and then everything will be okay.

"Tell me what I need to do."

There is the sense of a smile from the faceless helmet before him; Nabu is happy to have chosen well.

"We will fix this world's magic, and once that is done, I will be able to maintain the shield, protecting this world from invasion."

Khalid's eager to show he hasn't just been waiting around, filling Nabu in on what he already knows.

"I've done tests, and looked into this. The Green doesn't appear to exist, or any of the parliaments. We looked into the state of magic, but... I couldn't work out what had suppressed magic."

Even as he says it, he wonders: is it possible that magic wasn't being _suppressed,_ just _absorbed?_ Is Nabu the source of the disparity?

"Magic is not being suppressed. It has always been this way."

Khalid's mind grinds to a halt.

He'd been so _sure_ something was suppressing it, and finding out that it isn't is... jarring. It feels wrong, like gravity's just flipped and now he has to work out how to walk through the sky.

"I don't understand."

"Magic's natural state is to exist in the background, difficult to even recognize and only powerful if concentrated. But it can be strengthened. In most worlds, my brothers and I, at the dawn of the universe, did so. We accessed higher sources of magic, drawing it into our own worlds, and in doing so created the order of magic that you have come accustomed to. We created the parliaments and the elemental forces, taming the magic we had harnessed. This world, however, things were different. We did not bring order to magic, blissfully unaware of what would come of it. This world has no true elemental. The gods do not walk among humankind any longer, infinitely more dependent on belief than their counterparts in other worlds. Beings from higher planes—things you would know of as angels—cannot manifest here, lacking the strength, even where belief in them is high.

"But most importantly of all, the mages of this world are weak, myself included. What we can do here is little more than parlor tricks, nothing compared to the feats we can bring forth in other worlds. From the moment the gods began to wane, I realized that this was true, and have sought someone to take the place of the other lords: to allow myself to manifest, and to correct the error I made when this universe had only just begun. When this world's Kent Nelson found me, I realized that the magic in his veins was too weak to ever be of use, and I began to search for someone better. You were the one I found: someone from a world whose magic was in its proper state, who would have the strength to correct things."

Khalid's wished for this: for something bigger than himself. A purpose. A reason.

And now that it's there, it feels so impossibly vast. It's a _destiny,_ one that makes even his battle against Anubis look tame. It's not the fate of a city, but the fate of an entire _world._ A whole universe.

"So I come to you and ask for your help, Khalid Nassour. Help me correct my mistake. Help me protect this world."

Nabu is reaching a hand out for him, seeking his help. He isn't demanding, just _asking,_ and it's hard not to imagine the old man he once knew reaching out his hand to take Khalid's. 

He hesitates looking at the open hand before him, and he can't for the life of him understand why.


	50. Chapter 50

Khalid knows that he should say yes. Yes is the answer that Nabu wants. Yes is the answer _he_ wants. It gives him purpose. It lets him be a hero again.

Which is why he can't just say yes. It's too easy, too perfect. He's been carefully selected for this exact destiny, and his father always taught him to be wary of gifts that seem too perfectly chosen.

"I think I'd need to talk to the Wayne-Wilsons," he says carefully. It isn't his world. He shouldn't be the one to get to pick, and at the very least he shouldn't be the _only_ one who gets to pick. They should have a say as well, and he's hoping for some insight from all of them.

There's an increased sense of _place_ to Khalid, and for the first time Khalid gets a greater sense of his actual location. He's in the tower of fate, a building that has never made sense by any of the conventional laws of reality and makes even less sense here. He's not really _in_ the tower so much as he sort of feels the way he felt when he was in _his_ tower, and he suspects that it's an attempt by Nabu to help settle him down, rather than leaving him deeply disoriented.

"I would not stop you from doing so," Nabu answers, "but I am, as things stand, very weak. It is taking all the magic I've been gathering since I was first put to rest to maintain the barrier, and I doubt it will remain up much longer as it stands."

"How long is _much longer?"_ Nabu's never been good at hard details, and Khalid suspects that it's simply a matter of scale. It's hard for Nabu to track things in minutes and hours the way it's hard for Khalid to track things in picoseconds.

"You have been removed from the ordinary flow of time."

Oh.

Or that.

"You have time to decide," Nabu adds to clarify. "But when you return to the world, time will resume. Once you do, time will be very short."

"Again—"

"No more than thirty minutes, if that. I did what I could to impress upon you a feeling of urgency, so that you would find your way here faster."

He _should_ have come faster. He should have found a way. His stomach sinks, bile rising in his throat. What if he's too late?

"Would that even be enough time?"

"Yes. It would take no more than a few minutes to strengthen this world's magic."

"Would it have any side effects?"

Mentally, Khalid's running down the list of everything that could go wrong. What if he has to die to active the shield? What if it means surrendering his mind to Nabu permanently, giving him a physical host? How far is he willing to go? How much is he willing to give up?

He's not sure the answers to any of those questions.

"In the short term. Your body would host my consciousness until I can properly establish the Lords of Order, at which point it would be similar to the status quo of your old world."

"Taking control when you need to. Guiding, but not controlling."

"Correct."

Khalid takes a deep breath. He needs an answer. A better solution than saying yes and calling it a day. It feels almost like giving up, handing the keys over to Nabu and letting him deal with things.

That was what he did before.

That was what happened on his own world. He'd refused to deal with what was happening, and he'll never get another chance to fix that choice. He'll never know if he could have managed things better.

He'll never know if he could have managed on his own.

"I need a minute," Khalid says simply, and then closes his eyes. It's pointless, considering there's no actual light, but it's a symbolic gesture, closing out Nabu as he reaches out.

He's separated from the Wayne-Wilsons, and from all the people he's met and befriended. He can't talk to Zatanna or Gregorio or any of the other mages he came along with.

But that doesn't mean he's alone.

So he does exactly what Nabu himself did.

"Khalid Nassour."

The tower's magic is the sort of magic he was raised on, a hundred times stronger than the magic he's gotten used to, and he lets it flow into into his words. It's a summon, a call, flowing out into the space between worlds, to world's he's never even dreamed of.

To every Khalid Nassour that still lives.

"Khalid Nassour," he calls again, and before him, the first begins to appear. It's a feat of magic he shouldn't be capable of, but the space between worlds is so imbued with magic it feels almost easy. Just as he was pulled from his world, to the space between seconds, he reaches out, plucking other versions of himself in turn. Most of them are almost indistinguishable from himself, but as more and more pour in, those with differences show up. Ones that are much older, and ones much younger. Some are in their Doctor Fate gear. A few are in lab coats. One very confused Khalid is in pajamas.

But they all have the same link, the same connection to magic.

"I need your help," he explains. Nabu's gone silent, observing but not interfering as Khalid makes his case. There's a lot to cover, and even if they're technically outside the ordinary flow of time, things feel like they're on a schedule just the same. He spares them the details, addressing the broad strokes instead: the shield, the state of magic, and why he's there at all. Some of the Khalid's don't know about magic at all, but that doesn't stop them from listening anyway, nodding along as Khalid explains.

And when he's done, Khalid waits for an answer that only he can provide.

The group discusses, trading ideas. Khalid feels like a judge overlooking a court, waiting for everyone to make their case and look to him for a consensus. He doesn't know which Khalid it is who first comes up with the idea, only the one who explains it to him in the end.

"The current state of your world's magic is natural for it. The magic Nabu wants to bring in—the magic that almost all of our worlds have—has to come from somewhere. So where's it from?"

A Khalid asserts himself, pushing to the front in a way that only barely makes sense to Khalid's own perceptions. He's simply more _present,_ coming forth to answer.

"From a dark place that should never have been disturbed," the Khalid says, and Nabu stirs for the first time, his attention like a physical weight that does nothing to stop the speaker. "The magic they bring was never meant to exist in our world. The magic they bring is laced with chaos, impossible to control. Dangerous. Its presence allows things to cross between realms freely. It blurs lines that should not be blurred."

"Magic _is_ dangerous," another Khalid calls, but the speaker simply shakes his head.

"The magic in his world isn't. It's what magic _should_ be. Weaker, yes, but not dangerous the way ours is. The magic Nabu will bring is caustic. It will burn you from the inside out as you use it. That's why he has to give up a body—because the magic destroys him from the inside out."

"But the world is in danger," Khalid says. He can't set that aside.

"It will be in more danger if you take the offer. If you introduce our kind of magic to that world, things will change. It's Pandora's box: once it's open, it's out in the world."

"Pandora's box also has hope," another Khalid calls. "It might not all be bad."

Khalid turns his attention to the one person who might know, who's said nothing for the entire duration of the conversation.

"Nabu?"

Nabu stirs again, slow and careful.

"I cannot make this choice for you. I can only lay the offer on the table, and hope that you take me up on it. If magic is not strengthened here, I do not believe you will be able to repel it."

At once, every eye in the room is on him, the focus of the other Khalid's impossible to ignore. He is the only one who knows, after all; the only one who could possibly say for sure if the people of his adopted home would be strong enough to fight back.

It is an impossible choice to make, and yet he still has to make it.

He closes his eyes, and the other Khalid's fade away. None of them can decide for him. None of them can make the choice he has to make.

The breath he takes is slow and steady, and when he speaks, he does so with all the will he can muster.

"They'll fight back. No matter what happens, or what gets in, they'll fight back. They'll fight, and they'll win."

He has faith. He believes that they'll find a way to protect themselves and find a way to do it all _without_ taking Nabu's offer.

He opens his eyes, looking up at the figure before him. The tower is gone, the room that only barely existed having faded away, leaving him in the void with Nabu's vestments.

"Will you still help?"

"I am not your Nabu. I am not the one who raised you, who tutored you in the ways of magic. But even so, I still chose you. Of all the mages who have passed through my barrier, you were the one with the most potential. I believe you have made an error in not calling forth stronger magic, but I have no desire to see this world fall. So yes, Khalid Nassour. I will help you."

He's right: the Nabu before him isn't _his_ Nabu, but the connection is there anyway. It's still something.

As Khalid reaches out, taking the helmet into his hands and feeling the magic connect with his own, he knows that will be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are at the end of SF. Where are we going from here?
> 
> . I'll keep people updated over on [discord](https://discord.gg/kYvx6cd).
> 
> As I'm sure a lot have people have surmised, my plans from the end of UV has... changed considerably. So, as things stand:
> 
> \- Next Part is Multi (rotating) POV, focusing on that wall coming down and what's coming at Earth-A.  
> \- Most likely (by now you should know my plans change), we're going to get the Bruce-B stuff, which will cover what's been going on since we dumped him, up to the end of the next part and what's happening on Earth-A.  
> \- Probably some oneshots! I've still got some I need to write, but I didn't want to mess with the pacing of the current part.  
> \- I still want to do a flash forward with Damian's future career, so we'll see if I get to that or change my mind again.
> 
> Thanks everyone, as always, for reading (and commenting!) and keeping up with this behemoth of a series.


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